


Connections

by Octobig



Series: First Contact [5]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: (and the smut is in chapter 4 in case you were wondering), (in chapter 5 in case you were wondering), Alien Biology, Angst, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, No Character Death But There Is A "What If", Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, spoilers for until Meridian: The Way Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10759875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Octobig/pseuds/Octobig
Summary: If Sara narrows her eyes, she can almost see him in the shadows at her left side, in the gap that’s been there ever since they came to Andromeda – Scott, the setting sun in his eyes, leaning forward against the railing. The curve of his jaw jutting upward as he smiles in her direction; gentle, kind, not wanting for anything but this.It’s lovely, isn’t it, Sara?[Or alternatively: when Scott wakes up, Sara, Jaal and Scott have to navigate their way around complicated relationships while the kett threat grows.]





	1. Oh brother, I will hear you call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xenosaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenosaurus/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mom, thanks for recommending the POV switches to me.
> 
> Chapter titles taken from the excellent song "Hey Brother" by Avicii.

  


**Chapter 1**

**In which Sara has an inferiority complex, SAM and Sara bond over the same absent father, and Scott wakes up.**

  


The lazy summer breeze brushes against Sara Ryder’s cheeks, ruffling her hair – it carries a certain softness with it that reminds her of those moments spent in-between when she was younger. Before she and Scott followed in their parents’ footsteps, chasing Prothean artefacts and acting like grown-ups. It’s a bit like resting at a vacant parking lot next to the highway, radio low and the whisper of twilight across the horizon, a loved one dozing in the passenger seat.

Well, it _would_ remind her of Earth – weren’t it for the strange smells, the vivid purple-orange streaking across an unfamiliar sky, and the almost-but-not-quite taste of ice cream in her mouth.

(Not to mention the aliens. And the space pirates.)

“Pretty as a picture,” Liam sighs next to her, ice cream cone in hand.

They’re standing in Kadara Port, leaning over the railing near the docks, watching the sunset in the distance. Now that the Remnant Vault has been reset, the strange trill of the sulfuric acid fumes in the air has disappeared. The sky is striking, bright and vibrant, and Sara feels as wistful inside as the beautiful yet melancholy smile Liam is currently wearing on his face.

“Ice cream’s not really… _ice cream_ , though,” Peebee quips from where she’s perched on the railing. She’s licking at her cone with a thoughtful expression, legs dangling off the side.

The long drop makes Sara’s stomach feel a little queasy, but Peebee’s not afraid of anything so mundane. Close relationships are much more frightening to the wild-hearted asari.

“I know,” says Liam, “but I don’t care. _This_ right here? This is as close as we get to the real deal.”

Vetra huffs, subvocals thrumming through the sound. Tall as she is, she’s leaning forward on the railing, arms crossed, visor protecting her eyes against the hard glare of the sun. (Though Sara’s not really sure whether turian eyes actually _need_ any sort of protection.)

“This _is_ the real deal, Liam,” she comments, her head tilted slightly towards the side. “We’re not in the Milky Way anymore, you know.”

He rolls his eyes in response. “I _know_. It’s just nice to have something normal.” A pause, and his smile is back on his face again. “Something familiar.”

Peebee finishes the rest of her ice cream in one gulp, throwing away the rest of the cone into the depths below the docks. “I still can’t believe you managed to get your hands on some ice cream, Vetra. You’re a smuggler after my own heart.”

Vetra doesn’t even pretend not to be flattered, and throws Peebee a knowing smile. “Thank you. I _do_ try.”

“Didn’t Jaal want in on this?” Liam asks, turning towards Sara. “I mean, interspecies weirdness is kind of his thing.”

Sara grins back at him. “You can’t guess why?”

Peebee grasps the railing with both hands, stretching her legs forward and leaning back to crane her head towards Sara. “Have I told you,” she says, voice deep and low in a mock impersonation of Jaal, “how much I _loathe_ Kada-r-a?”

That makes Vetra chuckle, mandibles flaring slightly.

Peebee grins, swaying back and forth. “How much I _hate_ it? How much I _despise_ it?”

“Alright, alright,” Liam laughs, “I get it.”

Sara takes another bite of her ice. “Despite the angara sort of having taken over under the Charlatan, he decided to stay behind on the ship this time,” she says, smiling. “I think he’s helping Cora watering her plants.”

“Not the only thing Cora needs to have watered,” Peebee sing-songs.

Liam just shakes his head at that, grinning, and Sara facepalms.

“Gods, Peebee.”

“It’s true!”

And then it grows quieter once more, save for the background chatter of the docks; of merchants buying and bartering, of drunken visitors to the port town stumbling across the metal grates, and the hiss and whirr of shuttles and ships taking off.

Sara’s mouth tastes like the cold; both sharp and soft due to the strange mix of lemon and vanilla in her ice cream, combined with an overly cardboard-like texture of the cone itself. But it’s a mesmerizing moment, here in the gentle heat on Kadara, in a place that she only ever saw in old sci-fi flicks like _Bladerunner_ and read about in cyberpunk novels. Only less rain and gloominess, but who knows what the night holds for Kadara Port.

She can practically feel the ties of camaraderie between them pulling tauter than before; she’s unsure whether it’s the calm before the storm or not, now that they’re hot on the Archon’s tail. Shooting for Meridan – for some sort of ancient alien control center, the promised land amongst the chaotic clutter that is Heleus.

The last bite of the cone leaves her throat a little dry, and she stares out across Kadara’s mountainous surface.

A moment wrapped in its own little space-time pocket.

She’ll likely remember this forever – the light air across her skin, the purple haze lining the clouds, the yellow mountains in the distance, the metal structures of the port. The people beside her; friends, comrades, brothers and sisters in arms. And yet here, they dare to dream; take a bit of the universe and its quietness for themselves, lock it in their hearts like a treasure.

A drink from an oasis in a time of strife; though strife is unfelt, at this moment.

If Sara narrows her eyes, she can almost see him in the shadows at her left side, in the gap that’s been there ever since they came to Andromeda – Scott, the setting sun in his eyes, leaning forward against the railing. The curve of his jaw jutting upward as he smiles in her direction; gentle, kind, not wanting for anything but this.

_It’s lovely, isn’t it, Sara?_

And she answers to his shadow, mirroring his footsteps as he does hers. Answers by enjoying the moment even more than she already did, almost forcing herself out of it by trying to observe it objectively – because these are the memories that should’ve been his, too. And if she really commits it, preserves it crystal clear, then she’ll be able to greet him with this when he wakes up.

And not just with pain and death and hopelessness. Because Heleus is beautiful, too.

“I will save the experience to my memory banks as well, Sara,” SAM says on their private channel.

Sara smiles against the light breeze.

“We should get back,” Vetra murmurs. “Rendezvous at the Tempest is only just a few minutes away.”

Peebee hops off the railing. “Spoilsport,” she winks.

Vetra leans back, one hand on her narrow waist. “Hey,” she says, “am I your favorite person on the Tempest or not?”

The other woman shrugs. “Well, going back _does_ mean doing more research on Poc, so… I don’t know.” She grins, turning into the direction of the elevator and winking. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

Vetra sighs. “Make up your mind already, Peebee.”

They bicker a bit back and forth while they walk back; Vetra and Peebee in front, Liam and Sara behind. Liam’s hand is a brief, welcome weight against her lower back as they step towards the platform for take-off, and she looks back once more over her shoulder.

 _Soon_ , she thinks as Kallo welcomes them back over the comm, _you’ll be here again, soon._

And then Gil breaks the scenery, moving towards the gangway with a hasty kind of jogging, arms filled with all kinds of strange bottles.

Sara raises an eyebrow at him.

“What?” he says, a veneer of fake affront on his face. “If they don’t have credits, I gotta take something else. Kralla’s Song is great for fishing, Ryder.”

He whisks past her, and Sara can’t help the smile making its way to her face.

“You should try it once,” he yells over his shoulder, disappearing into the hold.

The next half-hour is a whirlwind of taking off, and of quickly going through vid calls, journals and logs to determine their next destination. Of Vetra and Peebee bringing Cora the supplies they got for her in Kadara at a ridiculous discount; of Kallo disgruntledly admitting to Sara that Gil’s latest calibrations have increased the Tempest’s overall efficiency without taking too much away from other areas; and of Suvi forgetting her mug in a weird place _again_.

(The weird place is the underside of the bathroom sink. Luckily, there was no coffee or tea in it this time.)

Jaal moves on the edges of her vision while Sara walks about, always touching; a hand on her shoulder, a brief press of his forehead against hers, a broad smile and soft eyes just for her. A grounding presence, as always.

“Where to, Pathfinder?” Kallo asks, hands ready at the helm to plot a course.

The pending request from Director Tann flashes clear before her eyes – return to the Nexus, and discuss the plans to find Meridian with the others. Somehow, Sara doesn’t think that one will go over well, and after that latest run-in with the Archon, she doesn’t feel ready to deal with office politics just yet.

“Havarl,” she answers with a smile, staring out into space over red-hot Kadara. “It’s time to check on those scientists that the Nexus sent over. Make sure they’re all settled in.”

Suvi’s face immediately shifts into an enthusiastic expression. “Oh, and we can run some new scans for the irregular wildlife! The influence of only two activated Monoliths on the ecosystem and biological structure of the animals is just _fascinating_.”

Kallo looks a little mischievous, leaning over his console. “Hmm,” he murmurs, fingers typing in the coordinates. “Of course. _And_ I suppose Jaal would be happy to see his family again.”

Sara rolls her eyes, stepping away from the Pathfinder console and making her way back to the exit. “You know I have my priorities as Pathfinder, Kallo,” she says on her way out. “Didn’t hear you complaining when we stopped by Kadara last time to procure some – ”

“Right,” Kallo says sternly, interrupting her immediately, and Sara doesn’t turn back to see whether salarians actually blush.

The last thing she hears before the doors whoosh closed behind her is Suvi’s laughter.

She checks in with Cora, briefly; admires how the plants are coming along in their tiny little bio-habitats. Ever since the slight resentment about the fact that Cora was supposed to become the Pathfinder rather than Sara has been flushed out between them, cleaned by an honest friendship and Cora’s newfound self-confidence about her goals, they share an intimate bond.

It’s different than with the others on the ship in that it’s _quiet_ – Sara finds she can just _be_ around Cora. They don’t require a lot of words; a smile or a look is enough to get their feelings across, and it feels remarkably like family. And Cora can be short and blunt and to the point, but that’s kind of familiar to Sara as well.

(Her devotion to a higher purpose and the e-mails with snippets from her asari prayerbook have been new and unexpected. But always welcome.)

So when Cora steps away from the plant cabinet, eyes slightly hooded and downcast, Sara already knows that a heavy question is coming. Her lips even press into a thin line just before she speaks.

“Ryder,” she says, her professionalism clipping through her tone, “do you have what you need to go after the Archon? To find Meridian?”

Normally, Sara would make a joke, dance around it a little bit. But this is Cora, serious and fire-hearted and strong. Whose brown eyes look up with determination, but also with fear. Sara sometimes forgets that they all saw her die, and that the loss of Alec meant more to their shared second-in-command than to the others.

And that’s why she almost sighs in response. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

A muscle tightens in Cora’s jaw. “Ryder…”

Sara steels herself. “Look, all I know is that we _have_ to beat the Archon to it. We _have_ to win. And I have all of you – allies, friends, fighters.” A pause. “We owe it to the universe to _try_.”

Finally, a smile from Cora, but a wry one. “You’re so damn stubborn. Just like your father.”

Sara smiles back. “But you’ll stick with me nonetheless, right? Just like with dad.”

Cora’s gaze grows warmer, though she does shake her head a bit. “Yeah, I will. But you knew that already. I just – for what it’s worth, I…”

Sara reaches out, touching Cora’s arm. “Hey, it’s okay. I thought we were without any doubts between the two of us after we threw a bunch of seeds up in the air together. Sentimental bonding and all that.”

Cora sniggers. “Me and my plants, huh, Ryder?” she asks, chin tipped up. “My rose garden in Heleus.”

“You’ll have one,” Sara says, gently squeezing Cora’s upper arm. “That’s a promise.”

Cora clasps her own hand over Sara’s shoulder. “I’ll stand by you. It’d be an honor, no matter the cause.” A sly smile creeps its way into the corners of her mouth. “And the Archon needs an ass-kicking, anyway.”

Sara smiles. “Thanks, Cora. Poor idiot won’t know what hit him.”

The conversation dwindles back to the mundane then, after that heartfelt exchange; back to the reality of filed reports, of Nexus leadership’s constant commentary on everything they try to achieve, and of outpost issues and the like. They chat comfortably, short sentences over cups of hot drinks.

“Did you know Jaal called me brilliant?” Cora asks once Sara’s just making ready to return to her quarters.

Sara throws a wide smile her way, leaning against the door frame. “He’d be a fool not to.”

“Quite the guy,” Cora smiles, “and he’s very lucky to have you.”

That makes Sara pause and stutter; somehow, she’d expected it to be the other way around – _you’re lucky to have him_. Because that’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it?

Her father, the indestructible N7; the brilliant artificial intelligence builder. Master of algorithms and of guns. And her mother, the pioneer, pushing for new boundaries and frontiers with cutting-edge research that eventually killed her with how doggedly she pursued advancement.

Scott, smart and controlled and with a smile brighter than the sun.

And Jaal is, of course, larger than life – popular with his own species _and_ now also with those of the Milky Way. Who’d do well on recruitment posters for the Resistance, but also on posters to decorate the Cultural Exchange center with. A poet, a fighter, a lover. An absolute catch for anyone who’d even be remotely interested.

But Cora, steadfast and confident, is still smiling.

And Sara doesn’t really know what to do with herself; feels her cheeks heat, her fingers anxiously tapping against the door frame. In her head, it almost echoes: _… lucky to have you_.

“I… Yeah,” she says a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head. “I suppose – I mean, thanks, I think? I’ll – I’ll be going now. See you around, Cora.”

Cora’s lips curl deeper, almost dimpling; it gives her a knowing look. “See you, Ryder. I’ll be here.”

Sara’s still a little flustered as she leaves the bio lab, rounding the corner and back over the glass walkway toward the bridge. She then slides off the ladder to the deck below, hearing the faint murmur of Vetra and Drack discussing some of their cooking recipes in the galley.

Stepping into her quarters, routine takes over – switch her standard Initiative outfit for something more comfortable, check the trajectory to Havarl, make sure SAM is still properly connected to the Hyperion (“If not, you would have been aware of it already, Sara”), and browse through her e-mails. They tend to pile up every time she does something outpost-related or angara-relevant.

Scrolling through her messages, Sara briefly reminiscences on what she’s built so far – even Director Addison, who couldn’t stand her when she appeared on the Nexus instead of her father, seems to have warmed to her. Still blunt to the point of rudeness, because that’s Addison for you, but no longer with actual contempt towards Sara as a person.

Though Sara’s not sure if there ever _was_ anything personal about it; perhaps just the whole clusterfuck of a situation on the Nexus that Addison had to deal with before Ark Hyperion arrived. Office politics don’t really seem like her strong suit, and in came waltzing Sara, bringing another boatload of problems with her.

And then there’s unexpected e-mails from Evfra, of all people, whose tone always seem to hover somewhere between begrudging praise and annoyance. Honestly, Sara would’ve expected correspondence from Paaran Shie or even the Moshae – but it’s Evfra who writes, and quite lengthy e-mails, too.

Reyes’ messages are to-the-point and smooth, just like the man himself. Sara never really felt like she actually had to work to make him like her – apparently, bad boy criminals have soft spots for bumbling, slightly-awkward-but-well-meaning Pathfinders. And he seems to run Kadara well enough, especially from the point of view of the angara.

Sara also appreciates the lack of protection fees and the fact that he’s keeping an eye on the Initiative outpost. Free of charge. But still, sometimes, when she thinks back on that moment in the cave, the flash of the sniper’s scope above the length of his rifle, the darkness sinks in.

And she feels guilty about not saving Sloane, even for all the woman’s faults.

Morda was a _terribly_ hard sell, and Sara is a hundred percent sure that the krogan ‘overlord’ still doesn’t like either her nor the idea of the Initiative. They’re _tolerated_ on Elaaden, at best, and all Sara can really do is gun for the opinions of the younger krogan and basically anyone below Morda.

Drack commands a lot of respect in any krogan circle, due to his sheer age and badass factor, and the fact that she’s basically another one of his grandkids alongside Kesh helps, too. Heck, Kesh’s presence as the Nexus’ superintendent has also been fruitful in re-establishing a positive relationship between New Tuchanka and the Initiative.

To be honest, it’s not at all surprising that the krogan – and Morda – still harbor ill feelings towards both Sara and the Initiative, but the whole explosive situation doesn’t really make Sara feel any better about leaving a priceless Remnant drive core on their doorstep. It’s a decision she’s sure will come back to bite her in the ass at one time.

And August Bradley – he’s just awesome. About the only one with whom things have progressed naturally in a friendly, smooth, open kind of way. Sara feels eternally grateful for his presence on Eos, as for the fact that he came to their rescue when Liam handled things in that uniquely Kosta-way _again_ and things went tits up.

But still, despite apprehensive intergalactic alliances and negotiations, despite Sara’s own inexperience, and despite Alec Ryder not being present, here they are – with five successful outposts.

Eos, Voeld, Havarl, Kadara, and Elaaden.

They _built_ this, together, and Sara’s not gonna let the Archon sweep in and destroy it all.

Even though her father might’ve been better equipped to deal with a military situation like this than she will ever be.

“Sara,” SAM says gently, “if there is one thing I have learned from studying human behavior and emotions, it is that any individual has different strengths and weaknesses. It is up to the individual to utilize this knowledge in such a way that they are an efficient manner of dealing with any situation.”

She blinks, staring down at her hands. The shape of them, the bone structure – so like her father’s.

“I never,” she starts, halting briefly, “I could never do what dad did.”

SAM’s answer is immediate. “Nor could Alec do what you have done. Having spent quite an amount of time in both your heads, I can even safely say that, were it Alec in your place, he would have a smaller chance of succeeding against the kett.”

That makes her blanch, and she whips her head towards SAM’s module in surprise. “What?”

It still surprises her sometimes, that there’s no face to look at.

“There is no doubt that he could have killed the Archon,” SAM continues, “and could have crippled the kett’s armies. But I find it unlikely – both statistically and from a personal perspective – that he could have built the lasting relationships you have formed.”

Sara’s thought process almost _recoils_ at that, as if she’s unable to fathom the thought that _she_ could have done something better than her father ever could have. “Huh,” she murmurs unbelievingly, “yeah, he wasn’t the strongest with stuff like that. But I don’t see how…”

SAM’s module glows a brighter blue. “You have many allies, whereas he would have had fewer. In this fight, the numbers undoubtedly matter, as does the aftermath if the end goal is a successful cooperative colonization of the Andromeda Galaxy.”

“You’re saying you need more than just tactics and strike-teams of the Nexus for this,” she says, voice soft. “Not just defeating the Archon and the kett no matter the cost.”

SAM confirms it. “Yes. Positive intergalactic relationships are a requirement, as are allies on different worlds. Of course, the Nexus would have taken over these responsibilities where Alec could not fulfill them, but…”

The AI falls quiet, and the presence of him in her mind almost vanishes. “SAM?” Sara tries, hesitant.

“From Alec, I learned the importance of an elevated sort of leadership, commanded by respect and expertise,” SAM says; slowly, measured. “From you, I have learned the importance of a relationship-oriented type of leadership, where the needs of those you lead are as important as the task you ultimately need to fulfil.”

She frowns. “But I haven’t – ”

“Sara,” SAM interrupts, “these people would follow you because of _you_. Though they may wish solid relationships with the Initiative and the Nexus, it is _you_ personally why they would join you in this fight. Even those who view you less positively, have somehow been bound to you personally.”

She thinks of all of them in that instant, letting them pass through her mind’s eye – Morda, Evfra, Paaran Shie, the Moshae, Reyes, August Bradley. All the numerous colonists she helped out during her travels. Her crew.

“It’s trust,” she says, voice barely above her whisper, her hands – _her father’s_ – clenching and unclenching into fists. “They trust me. To make things right. But I don’t know _why_. I’m just – ”

SAM’s reply is quick once more. “Do actions not speak louder than words?”

She feels uncomfortable, warm, as if she’s staring straight into the sun without any protective gear. “I-I suppose.”

“You saved countless of lives; colonists, angara, exiles,” SAM continues. “You established the power position of Reyes Vidal. You gave Nakmor Morda the drive core she desired to further her colony and become independent of the Nexus. You saved the Moshae, disgraced Akksul, and destroyed many kett facilities on angara worlds.”

A pause, the silence heavy between them.

“There is more,” SAM says, “but I believe these examples are already sufficient to illustrate my point.”

“Is it strange,” Sara answers, sitting down on her office chair, “that I _know_ this but that I almost can’t believe it? That I did this?”

She places her hand next to SAM’s module; the blue light that makes up his matrix feels warm, alive somehow, beating against her skin. She runs her fingers through his light, briefly, and the holographic image breaks apart, pixels scattering.

“That I _could_ do it,” she adds more quietly. “Me, not dad.”

“… No,” SAM says eventually, “it is not. I believe this is referred to as ‘living in someone’s shadow’. I imagine the shadow that your parents both cast was quite large for you and Scott.”

She smiles at the thought of both her parents, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, it was.”

“Sara.”

She sweeps her fingers over the module once more. “Yeah?”

“Remember,” SAM says next, “you did all of these things not because you _had to_ , but because you _could_. You took responsibility for all these people when no one else did.”

She sighs, long and low and deep, leaning back in her chair – trying not to cry. Trying to get her emotions back under control, focusing her thoughts back to the present, and to the steadying breaths low in her belly.

“It matters,” she finally says, “what they would’ve thought – my parents. Even though I don’t _want_ it to matter. I’m trying to move past that, because they’re both dead. Not to be stuck in the past all the time, not to constantly want to ask you how you think they would’ve felt.”

She takes another shuddering breath. One, two, three.

No tears.

She continues. “So,” she says, steeling her voice to stop it from breaking, “I want to ask you something else. Are _you_ proud of what we’ve built, SAM? What we’ve done so far, you and I, and the others?”

A spark in his blue light.

“Infinitely,” SAM answers, voice-output as clear as a bell.

That’s really all that Sara needs.

She gets up, about to check on Jaal when Kallo’s voice suddenly breaks through on the comm.

“Ryder,” he says, tone slightly anxious and his words quick, “we just got word from the Nexus. I think this is something that warrants your immediate attention.”

She frowns. “What is it, Kallo?”

“Scott is awake,” SAM says on their private channel, and Sara almost keels over when Kallo speaks the exact same words over the comm barely a second later. It’s like her heart drops straight down from her chest, landing in the pit of her stomach.

“Change course,” she answers immediately, her voice sounding oddly loud and strained to her ears. “Back to the Nexus, ASAP. Those scientists on Havarl can wait.” A pause, and she’s almost afraid to ask.

“Anything on his status, Kallo?”

Her tone is clipped, short, and not like her at all, but right now all she can do is talk like this – it’s the last line of defense she has against the hurricane of feelings currently rushing through her heart and mind, threatening to overtake her.

“No,” Kallo answers, “just a correspondence from Dr. Carlyle indicating that your brother has woken up from his coma.” He pauses. “I’ll adjust the coordinates and head for the Nexus at full speed immediately. Kallo out.”

Sara’s shaking all over and sits back down, fingers flitting unsteadily over her thigh.

It’s like a leap into the dark all over again – she can’t catch a break here in Heleus, can she?

“Kallo is correct,” SAM confirms. “It appears that Dr. Carlyle went against leadership command by contacting the Tempest directly. It seems that Scott is in stable condition, but our link has not fully re-established.”

She takes a shuddering breath. “So no full access yet.”

A brief pause on the other side. “Exactly, Sara.”

“Shit,” she breathes, a hand sliding over her mouth in disbelief. “What do I _do_?”

“I assume that was a rhetorical question,” SAM deadpans.

Sara blinks, trying to clear her head. “I-I don’t know. It’s just – I want him back, I want him _so bad_ , but what he’s gonna see, what he’s gonna _learn_ …” She swallows, fist against her lips. “It’ll be soul-crushing, all of it. Last time I told him about all this shit, he just – I sent him into neural fucking overdrive.”

“Sara,” SAM replies sternly, “take deep breaths. Your heartrate is spiking considerably.”

She leans forward, arms on her knees, eyes closed tight. Her nails are pressing little half-moon circles into her palms, and she can feel the tremor of emotions and tears clogging up her throat. It’s supposed to be a good thing that Scott woke up, so why can’t she just be happy about it? Why is she having some sort of unfounded, second-rate panic attack about it?

The realization flashes before her eyes. _Because I can’t lose him again. Because I can’t bear him to be broken._

_Because I left him alone all this time._

“Sara,” SAM pipes up, using her name again to catch her attention, “it is highly likely that Scott will be able to function normally. His vital signs are stable, as his emotional state, if going by the reports from Dr. Carlyle.”

She’s still shaking, brushing a hand over her eyes. “All this time, _all this time_ , I was just thinking about how much I needed him to be by my side but I never – never thought about how hard it would be if he’d wake up.”

She pauses, lower lip trembling. “How hard it would be for him. And he’s my _brother_ , SAM – I don’t want him to wake up and find everything taken apart. I don’t want it to break him.”

“You endured much the same,” SAM answers calmly, “and you persisted. We are currently well underway with our initial mission in the Andromeda Galaxy.”

Sara feels anger mixing in with the sadness and pain, directed at herself. “I was _selfish_ , SAM.”

“All of us are to some degree,” he answers smoothly. It sounds almost like he’s fed-up with her attitude, and that’s so confusing and so utterly _human_ coming from him that it half-snaps Sara out of her downward spiral.

She sits up a little straighter, staring at SAM’s module in surprise.

“I would suggest some nutrients while you wait for the Tempest to arrive at the Nexus,” SAM continues, audio output calmer, “and some company.”

Quietness descends upon them; of course SAM is right, as he always is. She shouldn’t stay here, cooped up and miserable with an AI for company who's also already reaching his limits for human interactions for the day. So she says nothing, simply getting up, knees creaking when she steps away from her chair.

It feels like fog has descended upon her mind as Sara staggers out of her quarters, legs feeling weak and unsteady, her pulse beating strongly in her wrists. She has no idea what to do, no idea how to –

“I heard,” Drack grumbles, interrupting her train of thought and shaking her from her reverie. “Looks like there’s two of you again now, kid.”

Sara looks up; there’s more people there, gathered almost shyly in the corridor to her quarters. Lexi’s attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible with a datapad in hand; Liam and Cora are standing side-by-side, the former with an encouraging smile and the latter with a slightly worried expression, and Vetra and Jaal are in the back.

But Drack is right up front, and Sara just lets out a long deep sigh and plonks her forehead against his large chestpiece.

“Yeah,” she croaks.

He embraces her as best he can with all the super-villainous decorations on his plate armor, two large claws resting on Sara’s shoulders.

They end up re-locating to the meeting room not long afterwards because it’s spacious and light, scattering themselves around the large console in the middle. Peebee plays some video games with Liam on their omni-tools, occasionally bumping elbows with Sara, and Drack tries to burp the human alphabet when Gil challenges him to do so.

Jaal spends his time curled against Sara’s left, saying little but holding her hand in hers, gently stroking his thumb over her palm. She leans her head back against his shoulder, grateful for the support.

“I’m scared,” she whispers to him when Suvi announces over the comm that ETA on the Nexus will be in a mere ten minutes.

He presses a kiss to her hair. “I cannot even imagine,” he says, voice soft, “what this must be like for you. To finally have your brother with you again after such a long time.”

“Yeah, more than six-hundred years,” Sara answers, a poor attempt at a joke that’s already been made way too many times to soothe her nerves. It’s not really working, either.

Scott would probably have cringed at it.

“I thought this would be a joyous occasion for you,” he continues, head inclined towards hers, “but you seem very agitated, Sara. Is there something more to this kind of reunion for humans that I am not seeing?”

She bites her lip, unable to meet his eyes. “No. I’m just being silly and conflicted. It’s just us now, and he hasn’t woken up to the world that was promised to him. I’m just scared what that’ll do to him and I don’t know if I can… save him from it.”

Jaal nuzzles against her. “Nobody saved _you_ , dearest one.”

“And he’s too precious,” Sara adds quietly, squeezing Jaal’s hand. “I can’t lose him again.”

“That I do understand,” Jaal murmurs, another kiss to her temple. “To have so little family left – Sara, you do know that I will also take care of him.”

She finally turns her head to look up at him, meeting his solemn expression. He presses their joined hands to his chest, nodding at her.

“He’s _family_ now,” he says, his tone unwavering. “He will want for nothing.”

Sara smiles, trailing her fingers over his cheek. “Thank you, Jaal. I can’t really – I can’t really say how much, but it means a lot. To both of us.”

They kiss, light but not lingering; not too much PDA in front of the crew. Jaal finds it a hilariously unnecessary human rule – “They should be overjoyed at seeing such a happy couple amongst them!” – but he’s decided to follow it out of respect for all the other aliens he’s sharing the ship with.

“Come with me?” Sara asks after.

ETA five minutes. She should be gearing up, nerves giving her goosebumps and tingles down her spine.

Jaal smiles, small and tight-lipped, and helps her stand up, hand still around hers. “Of course, darling.”

The crew sees them off, and Sara’s unsteady legs lead her off the walkway and into the docks with shaky steps. She’s let go of Jaal’s hand but he’s by her side, a quiet beacon of strength. And then as she walks through the crowds, almost pushing through them, shaking her head at colonists who wish to speak to her –

Her legs grow stronger, more confident. Her steps echoing, _Scott, Scott, Scott_.

And she starts running.

Almost pushes at the doors of the tram when they don’t open as fast as she wants them to, scrambles inside and slams the button for the Hyperion’s cryo deck. Jaal follows close behind, and even SAM stays quiet inside her head.

The journey there feels uncommonly long, and Sara taps her foot on the metal floor in annoyance. Her heart feels like it’s beating itself out of her chest.

Then, tearing the tram door open, stumbling down the stairs, pushing security guards and medical personnel out of the way –

The light of the medical bay is harsh and bright, as always, and Sara blinks against it, but there he is.

Scott, sitting upright on his medical bed.

Scott, immediately turning around as if he _knew_ , even though Sara hasn’t made a sound, hasn’t even let her _breath_ escape her lungs.

Scott, expression neutral, but then everything happening at the same time –

The corners of his eyes crinkling, mouth opening wide on a devastatingly beautiful smile, all white rows of teeth and happiness, but there are tears, large and clear, streaming down his cheeks, dripping down his jaw and chin.

“Sara,” he says, voice musty from disuse, and his lips are trembling. “ _Sara_.”

The last few steps towards him are the fastest ones she’s ever taken.

And then there’s the solid feeling of his body, warm and strong and real, against her own; but now the muscle and bone is filled again, the soul of Scott bringing it back to life – all of him, _finally_ , back in her arms right where he belongs.

“Scott,” she sobs back, burying her face in his shoulder, “ _Scott._ ”

Two halves made one whole once more.

No amount of outpost-building, terraforming, and weeding out kett could ever make this new galaxy a home to her more than the presence of her own brother.

The dam holding back all of her emotions finally breaks.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me [on Tumblr](http://octobig.tumblr.com/) about Mass Effect and other things you like!
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> **Enjoyed reading this fic? Please consider leaving kudos! I'd really appreciate it ♥**


	2. Nothing in this world I wouldn't do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles taken from the excellent song "Hey Brother" by Avicii.

  


**Chapter 2**

**In which Sara and Scott are both Family, and Jaal tries to figure out how to make that work.**

Family.

It’s such a cornerstone of angaran culture, such an integral part of their way of life, that Jaal has difficulty understanding how some of the Milky Way species approach familial relationships. Even the very idea that there are types of family bonds that have been unapproved of – there was an entire chapter in the Cultural Center describing the history of acceptance and legislation of humans of the same genders being able to build families together – is completely alien to him.

When Jaal first met Sara, he had already known that she had recently lost her True Father.

That had forged a bond right there and then, the two of them both fatherless – but imagine his surprise when he had learned that she had _also_ lost her True Mother, and had no other parents to make up for this. Humans in general did not appear to have more parents than just two, and then he found out she had a sibling.

Just _one_ , and he was in a coma.

That had turned Jaal’s entire world upside-down, almost like a sucker-punch to the gut; he’d written Sahuna immediately once he’d found out. He had been well on his way in becoming Sara’s friend, and he had no idea what to do with this newfound knowledge – hug her, suggest that they could talk about it, sew a garment for her sleeping brother, offer his own brothers and sisters to her for companionship?

To be honest, he also has no idea what _he_ would have done, stranded in a foreign galaxy with more problems than it was worth, with no parents and just one sibling sleeping their life away in a glass case. Not quite unlike that Snow princess, the one from the fairy tale Sara had told him about.

And humans, despite seeming to possess the same intense range of emotions and feelings as angara, are much more private about it. Even if they aren’t, it seems like they are eager to share the joy and the humor, but will rather keep the sadness and loneliness to themselves. Tucked away in their hearts.

That had made being there for Sara as a friend in this particular situation even more difficult.

That difficulty had increased about tenfold when Jaal soon realized that being a friend wasn’t all that he wanted – and going by the slightly awkward flirting from her side, Sara had been interested in other things as well. It certainly wasn’t what he had imagined when he had offered to assess these new alien races and their technology – nor had Evfra, going by the constantly increasing scowl every single time he saw Jaal and Sara together – but it was beautiful.

And it felt natural. It still does.

But _being_ with Sara, falling in love with everything from the strange softness growing from her head to the smooth, even way her calves are shaped and the curved way cartilage builds up the shells of her ears – that means more responsibility.

Not that Jaal would ever complain, and neither would Sahuna or the others. They all welcome it happily.

Sara was family now, in every sense of the word – but that meant that Scott, was, too.

And she still didn’t like to talk about him, or her lost father. Jaal would never push or go where he was unwanted, respecting Sara’s privacy and own ability to decide what she wanted to discuss – but in terms of his own upbringing, of the values his family had taught him, of his cultural norms and intricacies, it had posed a _huge_ problem.

He was supposed to take proper care of her, and of her brother, too.

In the end, Jaal had learned more about his beloved’s family through more indirect sources: the Pathfinder records at the Nexus, the Cultural Center, and by talking to Cora. She’d known both Alec and Scott and had served as Alec’s second-in-command, knowing the man’s inner workings the best after Sara – at least, that’s what Jaal had presumed.

SAM, too, tried to be helpful whenever he could.

And Jaal slowly puzzled together that Sara’s relationship with her father had been difficult; distant at times, and downright antagonistic at worst. There were a lot of complicated feelings involved, of which the brunt boiled down to Sara not feeling good enough to be what she wanted to be compared to her father.

Oh, and that had made him mad.

His sun, his stars, the center of his heart – and a father who had not appreciated his talented daughter.

It was enough to make Jaal want to throttle the man, even though he was already dead.

But all stories have different facets to them; SAM and Sara eventually discovered more about Alec’s journey to Andromeda, and in the little snippets of conversation between Sara and himself, Jaal had learned more as well. Apparently, not all humans are as good with emotions as they’d like to be, and perhaps Alec had been one of those people who hadn’t known _how_ to appreciate the gifts that were given him.

But he had still appreciated them, both Sara and Scott, even if he hadn’t known how to show it. At least, he appeared to, in his memories.

(Still, if Alec had been alive, Jaal would have wanted to have a stern conversation with him. Maybe punch him a little. He could have all blamed it on his angaran nature, anyway.)

Once the mystery of Alec Ryder had been cleared at least a little bit – and Jaal couldn’t solve it, had no True Father to offer up to make up for the one lost – that had left the riddle of Scott, the twin brother.

Even with all his siblings, Jaal has never had a twin, has never _known_ a twin. He doesn’t even know if it’s possible, for angara, and he has no idea what it means in terms of a sibling bond. Lexi appeared to be the one to approach for this, with all her medical knowledge and background as a psychologist.

Yet, all of it had seemed vague to Jaal – some twins had ridiculously close relationships, one never straying far from the other; others seemed more like any other ‘regular’ brother or sister, or other combinations thereof. Apparently, there had even been some not entirely legitimate human research about telepathy to see whether twins’ minds were actually interconnected.

None of it had seemed to explain Sara and Scott.

Jaal had known her well enough by then to realize when she was thinking about him; when something would remind her of her brother, her eyes would get that downcast, far-off look. Only one corner of her mouth would tilt up in half a smile, like the other corner would be filled with melancholy sadness.

Oh, how his heart had ached.

How his hands had _itched_ to do something, anything.

He was family, and it was his place to ease her pain.

But Sara, her grief locked in a faraway place, would step away, remove herself from the situation, distance herself from those around her – and she would leave, only to hold her pain and love for Scott up in her palms on her own.

Jaal had wondered what she’d imagined in those moments.

If her brother had still been by her side all that time, haunting her like a shade; and Sara had wanted to be haunted at every turn, Jaal thinks.

He had seen the pictures next.

Just a silly little thing that had started with Vetra showing the others who had not yet met Sidera on the Nexus a picture of the two Nyx sisters together before they left for Andromeda. Happy faces, smiling. Liam had had no siblings (the very idea had shocked Jaal to the core), but he’d produced a picture of his family and his HUS-T1 squad.

(That had brought some calm to Jaal’s mind; a makeshift family is as solid as one forged by blood relations.)

And then Drack had dropped the cutest picture of him carrying around baby Kesh, and all crew members had come in with their own additions.

Including Sara.

Joyous, unworried Sara with her arms slung around the shoulders of another human being, both of them looking up at the camera with happiness and wonder shining in their eyes. Eyes so narrow with happiness that the white in them had been barely visible. And the other human being in the picture; he’d had Sara’s smile.

More had followed – human children looked even frailer than Jaal had been able to imagine, and their proportions had been all off when compared to their adult forms. Even more difficult to differentiate between genders, too. But it had been a slice of Sara’s life before; a valuable slice, one that Jaal wanted to keep close to his heart forever.

Now he knew Scott a little better; understood the duality of Sara and Scott together a bit more than before.

There’s only so much that official Initiative profiles and pictures can teach you.

Something else had clicked a little deeper when he’d accompanied Sara to Prodromos one day to speak with August Bradley. Jaal hadn’t fully been paying attention, a little busy with examining the recent new calibrations Vetra had made on her expertly crafted gun, but there it had been –

_“We stay out of other people’s grief, Pathfinder.”_

Quite a way to sum up the human experience with only one sentence.

But still, Jaal is a man on a mission, and nothing can deter him from his path to understand what makes a human family tick – what builds the bonds between his darling one’s twin brother and herself. What makes a human family a true _family_.

He wants to know it so badly he can _breathe_ it, can make it part of his own being much like his angaran family is. Because then he’ll be able to care for them, for both Sara and Scott, in the way they should be taken care of.

Of course, Scott chooses that exact moment to wake up.

And Sara, who he’d imagined overjoyed and in tears, appears to be having a nervous breakdown fueled by anxiety.

Jaal has never felt less ready for anything than this.

All he finds himself able to do is soothe her by touch; press kisses to her hair, hold her hand, be as near to her as possible so she can lean on him if she wants to. This is a familiar thing; he knows that it works and that she likes it, but it feels like a remarkably small thing to offer in the grand scheme of things.

Once the Tempest docks, Jaal expects her to run off for her brother, leaving him behind, but instead she asks him to come with her. To accompany her to the only remaining person of her family; probably the most important person in her life at this point.

Jaal feels his chest burn with affection, his electromagnetic fields crackling in response.

_Of course, darling._

Always and forever.

But despite all the searching he’s done, all the people he’s talked to, all the strange things he’s read about human biology and psychology, and all the siblings he’s had running through his life on Havarl – he doesn’t know what to do when he sees Scott for the first time.

The human man is sitting up, eyes meeting Sara’s.

And then there’s crying, hugging, laughing, _howling_ , arms wrapping around each other tight.

This part, Jaal understands more than anything, but the cries coming from his loved one are the most painful ones he’s ever heard, tearing straight through his soul. She’s not holding herself back, sobbing into her brother’s shirt with abandon, hiccupping, her tiny body shaking.

And Scott does much the same.

From Jaal’s vantage point near the doors to the medbay, he can only see Scott’s face and Sara’s trembling back. Scott’s arms are wrapped around her like vices, his eyes scrunched shut, tears still escaping from behind closed lids. Eyebrows drawn together, hands clenched into fists at his sister’s back.

“I’m so sorry,” Sara sobs against him, her voice muffled, “Scott, I’m so so so sorry for everything – ”

He seems to squeeze her harder. “It’s okay,” he whispers, voice sounding dry and cracked like the desert on Elaaden. “Sis, it’s okay. I’m here. We’ll be fine.”

Sara’s crying increases. “You’re _here_ ,” she repeats, pressing her face into his shoulder deeper. “Fuck, Scott, you’re really here.”

“We’re both still alive,” Scott says, voice breaking; one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. “I’m – I’m never leaving you again.”

“Dad’s dead,” Sara cries, “he’s dead, Scott, I’m so sorry.”

He opens his eyes, lips tight. “I know, Sara, I know. But you’re still here. You’re still here.”

His eyes close again, a sob escaping from his throat. “I still have you,” he half-sobs, half-sighs against her. “I still have you with me, Sara. _Shit_.”

Jaal’s throat feels tight, the electricity beneath his skin going haywire; he doesn’t know what to do _at all_.

He’s completely powerless, only able to watch the display before him of two people being involved in intense anguish, arms uselessly hanging by his sides. His vision is swimming with his own tears for the lost brother and sister before him.

Everything tells him to go up to them and embrace them, to share their mourning.

But despite this being his family, they are still not fully _his_ – and they are human.

Sara asked him to come with her, but she didn’t ask anything else, so Jaal stays in the doorway, tears slowly falling down his cheeks. Trying to suppress any and all sounds bubbling up from his vocal chords that could alert the two of them.

It takes quite a while for them to calm down; at one point, Sara climbs up the bed, sitting down next to Scott, pressing their foreheads together. It’s such a typical picture of angaran bonding that Jaal almost starts weeping again in earnest – at the fact that an alien species from 2.5 million lightyears away can be so profoundly similar to them.

At his sweetheart and her brother being so achingly similar to himself.

And then the doctor gently interrupts them, holding a datapad just like Lexi’s, and the medical talk beings. Jaal barely catches any of it, focused intensely on Sara’s and Scott’s expressions and emotions instead. It’s a complicated tangle of things like ‘muscle atrophy’ and ‘emotional shock’, but their human faces speak to Jaal more than a doctor’s tone and words do.

It’s going to be alright.

Scott is fine.

Jaal’s limbs feel stiff, and he realizes he hasn’t moved in quite a while.

Sara and Scott are talking, quiet whispers, gentle but serious. They stay close, leaning deeply into each other’s personal space. Discussing what has happened in the past time, no doubt, but it’s too hushed for Jaal to hear. Watching them like this, the resemblance between them is almost uncanny.

Much more so than with angaran siblings.

He’s learned about all these different things between twins – things about ‘fraternal’ and ‘identical’ that he still doesn’t quite get, but when he sees them like this, there is no doubt of the fact that they’re related. That their bond has always been a close one.

Scott pulls exactly the same face Sara does whenever he’s concentrating on something difficult, but the frown in-between his eyebrows is just a little deeper and more obviously present. (When he doesn’t frown, the tiny little indentation, the line in his skin, stays.)

His eyes are a little bit smaller than Sara’s, but they narrow and widen in the same way as hers. The slopes of their noses, the width of their foreheads, the height of their cheekbones – all the same. Sara’s jawline is a little softer than Scott’s, but just as squarely present.

Their hands, fingers long and narrow. The same hands Jaal’s seen on Alec Ryder, in old vids and pictures.

They talk for _hours_.

Jaal has found a slightly uncomfortable chair to sit in for the duration of it; he won’t leave Sara alone, not until she asks him to. Not to mention that it’s fascinating, finally seeing her together with her lost twin after all this time, and to be able to learn from seeing them interact together.

From seeing her with the man Jaal hopes to call brother soon, too.

The doctor – _Harry_ , Jaal remembers – tries to interrupt several times. Shakes his head, says that Scott is tired, that he needs his rest, but the two siblings are adamant. At first, they still try to explain with sound arguments why they should be allowed to continue to talk, but when the doctor interrupts for the third time, Scott gets angry at him and waves him off without much ceremony.

And _stars_ , that deep frown and those intense eyes, lips pulled tight and jaw strong, jutting forward just slightly – that’s almost exactly the face Sara pulls when she’s staring down kett or Roekaar. It suddenly makes Jaal a little bit anxious; imagine having _two_ of those faces at full intensity.

The galaxy would not know what had arrived in it, the Ryder twins side-by-side.

Proudness fills the anxiousness at that thought, swamping it almost immediately.

Jaal would most certainly enjoy seeing that, one day.

They tire out eventually, of course, having discussed as much as they could. And Scott is still not himself; that much Jaal understands from the hollowed cheeks and the trembling arms, just as much as he sees it reflected on Sara’s face. Dark circles under her eyes; not a flush like the purple in angara, he learned early on, but rather an indication of fatigue in humans no matter their skin color.

Harry tells Sara to leave when Scott yawns.

Sara makes a gesture at him with her hands that Jaal realizes is a rude one when the doctor pulls an indignant expression and Scott starts sniggering. The sound is remarkably similar to Sara half-heartedly suppressing her own laughter, but Scott’s sound is lighter and quieter.

“I’m not leaving him alone,” Sara says sternly, arms crossed over her chest.

“You absolutely are,” the doctor answers, looking angry.

Scott intervenes immediately. “Doc,” he says, then: “Harry, listen. I’ve just spent my best time in Heleus in a coma. You might imagine that I’m scared to get back to sleep again.”

He makes a wide sweep with his arms. “I _need_ these beds. Scott, Sara, with all the outposts we’re constantly waking up people from cryo, and I can’t – ”

Sara prods the doctor’s chest with every word she says. “I. Don’t. Fucking. Care. Harry.”

Scott pulls her arm away, shifting lightly on his bed. “Sara, don’t.”

She turns back towards him. “Why not? I built all those fucking outposts. I – ”

He sighs, squeezing her arm. “I know. But we don’t even need the beds.”

Sara rolls her eyes. “Alright, alright.” Then, she moves her gaze to Harry again, eyes sharp. “But you’d better get off my case, doc. I’m staying here tonight. I’m staying here as long as it fucking takes.”

Harry lifts up his palms, sighing. “ _Fine_ ,” he says, and marches off.

Jaal picks up something about “Fucking Ryders always giving me trouble” while the doctor walks away, and somehow that doesn’t surprise him. If Sara has one defining character trait, it has to be stubbornness. And considering Scott as he has seen him now, and what Alec and Ellen managed to achieve during their lifetimes, it appears to run in the family.

Sara hops off the bed and Scott stretches out his legs, moving into a more comfortable position and slowly lying down. She rummages around in a nearby closet, pulling out some emergency blankets and an extra pillow – and then her eyes meet Jaal’s.

“You’re still here,” she says, surprised, before adding with a shocked gasp, “shit, I completely forgot.”

Scott blinks, leaning back up on his arms, following the line of his sister’s gaze.

And then an eerily familiar pair of eyes lands upon Jaal for the first time. White around the edges, a colorful, textured iris in the middle, surrounding a rounded pupil. Little peaked strands in a light curve framing the narrow, focused gaze; lashes, Jaal knows now, though he never really got how human eyes actually work.

His heart is beating faster, the static spiking.

What is Scott seeing, when he looks at him?

He’s never met an angara, never even seen one. And Jaal, who wasn’t expecting any confrontations at this point, would’ve liked to make the best impression he could; not an impression where he’s looking worn out and tired, perched awkwardly upon a piece of furniture made for humans.

He blinks, his bioelectricity at an all-time high.

“Jaal?” Sara presses quietly. “Are you okay?”

“I, uh,” he starts, stammers, fiddling with his hands in his lap.

Scott’s gaze is very intense.

Jaal swallows, trying to gather the scattered pieces of himself together. “Do you – do you want me to keep watch over the two of you tonight, Sara?” he finally manages, his eyes skittling anxiously from one sibling to the other.

Her expression softens, a sweet smile blooming on her lips. “Ah, that’s so sweet of you,” she says, still hunched near the cabinet where she pulled the blankets from. “But it’s – I think we’re good.”

She looks back at Scott, and Jaal sees his eyes widen when he sees his sister’s expression.

“I understand,” he answers still a little shakily, suppressing the urge to add a pet name to the end of the sentence. “I’ll – I shall go back to the Tempest.”

Sara’s still smiling, rising back to her full height. “Okay, Jaal. Get some rest. And… thanks for being here for me.”

He stands up too, obviously flushed, and his muscles and limbs protest against the sudden movement. “Of course,” he says, voice oddly stony. “I will. Uh, Sara?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Scott’s eyes are still staring holes into his being.

Hands clasped gracelessly in front of him, Jaal continues onward nonetheless. “You will, ah, ping me if you need me? If something arises?”

She nods, smiling. “Of course. Stay strong, darling one,” she says, as if to encourage him.

Jaal feels his cheeks and neck-flaps heat up with the rush of blood that floods into them, no doubt marking the lighter coloring of his face and neck with bright purple.

Scott’s mouth has fallen open a little bit.

Jaal’s not sure if this is a good thing or not.

“Yes,” he says, at the peak of his own awkwardness, “I shall be back in the morning.”

And he flees the scene, unable to bear another moment of Scott Ryder’s eyes upon him, barely even able to register Sara’s slightly surprised expression while he runs out of medbay as fast as his legs can carry him. He tries to tone down his speed a bit, but his rofjinn still flutters off behind him as he rounds the corner.

 _Shit_ , he says to himself, tasting the alien word around his tongue. So similar to _skutt_ that it’s been easy enough for him to work it into his vocabulary.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

He can practically hear Sahuna scold him as he rides the tram back to the docks.

Apparently, he’s pulling such a miserable face when he boards the Tempest that the other crew members seem under the impression that there’s something wrong with Scott – he reassures them immediately that this is not the case, and then holes himself up in the tech lab after.

(Vetra comes by later with angaran nutrient paste, and Jaal blurts out to her that he’s not sure if Scott likes him, and that he royally botched up their first meeting. Her hug is a little hard and spiky, like any turian hug, but her words are gentle and calming. It alleviates his worries a bit, thank the stars.)

He still spends the rest of the evening fussing about, completely unproductive.

Takes apart a gun, but accidently wrecks it because his fingers won’t stay still.

E-mails his mother about the whole situation, asking for advice, and then spends a few minutes with his head in his hands, embarrassed down to the core.

Throws the mangled gun against the wall in frustration, and then it goes off accidently.

That leaves him having to explain the whole situation to both Kallo and Gil who show up in the tech lab almost immediately; Gil annoyed with his lips pursed and Kallo an angry tangle of long limbs. And when Cora joins in after she’s walked over from next door, disturbed by the noise, he accidently zaps her with his energy when she touches his arm.

It surprises her, but she zaps him right back with her biotics.

It makes Jaal feel a little less pathetic, but not by much.

Vetra eventually intervenes, shooing everyone away, but that leaves him alone again with his gloomy self and the ultimate truth that he does not know what to do about this situation.

He doesn’t know what to say, and he doesn’t know how to show both Sara and Scott how important they are to him; and how important they are to him _together_ , as brother and sister. No matter how much he has learned about them and their bond, it remains elusive to him still on how to get the gravitas of the situation clear to them.

Sahuna has several suggestions, of course.

_Write them poetry. Make them pie. Show them your best gun. Challenge Scott to a fight._

Jaal has already typed an answer back when he notices how utterly ridiculous it sounds, so he deletes everything immediately and continues sulking at his desk.

( _“I have no inspiration for writing right now, Mother – I am having an emotional crisis! I also do not know how to make pie and I have never seen Sara eat it and no, your own attempts would likely also not be appreciated (the attempts, yes, the pies themselves, no). Showing them a gun could come off as threatening, and I do not know what kind Scott would prefer – this could be anything from shotguns to pistols or sniper rifles._

_I cannot challenge Scott to a playfight, Mother! Are you serious? He is still recovering from his coma._

_Also, I think our darling Sara would kill me if I tried. This is not the human way.”_ )

There must be something he can do. Other than stand around and stammer to the two Ryders.

He stares down at his hands, seeming so large and unwieldly compared to human ones; the first time Sara took them in hers, he marveled at the size difference. But they _are_ nimble and quick, if he can command his nerves and order them to stay still. He can make almost everything he wants; has even learned to work with tiny, fiddly little human devices used on the smaller guns in the Tempest’s weaponry caches.

Jaal knows how to wield his tools.

A needle and thread, too.

And then he remembers Sara, all huddled up in front of a heat lamp on Voeld. Shoulders shaking, muttering things about the cold being such a ‘goddamn’ nuisance. He remembers Liam, teeth chattering, trying to fit his hands into the space just below his armpits.

Jaal’s own arms wrapped around Sara if the blanket wouldn’t suffice at night, his body heat warming her. Cora and Liam turning up the heat in the Nomad to combat the snowy storms outside.

And then, only this afternoon, Sara pulling more emergency blankets out of a cabinet to warm herself and Scott up, even though they’d be sharing a bed together – as if their combined warmth still wouldn’t be enough.

Humans always seem to be so susceptible to the cold.

It finally sparks an idea in Jaal’s mind, and he sets out to work immediately. He’ll need Vetra for this, no doubt – someone to get the right materials for him, the best thread, the most expertly woven materials. Maybe he could even order something from Aya, but he needs it _fast_. And his big sewing kit would be great, too – he only brought his smaller one with him on the Tempest.

He sets to work, finally being able to channel his nervous energy into something useful.

The designs are easy enough to sketch; after all, he’s done this before.

In the end, Jaal stays up all night.

It turns out that Vetra had some emergency supplies stashed away herself – light, durable fabrics meant for makeshift clothes in times of disaster. The colors are all wrong, but Suvi and Peebee have been putting their heads together in making organic dyes.

Jaal knows a thing or two about fabric dye, and just what to add to the mix to craft the color he wants. It was smart of him to stock up on fruit the last time they visited Havarl – and not just as food.

In the time it takes for the dye to settle, he goes out on his quest for more thread than he currently has in his possession; Gil ends up giving him an astonishing amount of it, muttering something about it being a leftover from a strange win back on Elaaden. Though it briefly piques Jaal’s interest, there are better things to do right now than to listen to Gil’s stories – though they are often glorious indeed.

And Jaal keeps working until his fingers are stiff.

Until every pull of the thread makes his muscles contract in protest, the skin of his hands oversensitive and numb at the same time.

His eyes feel dry, overused on examining every single little detail underneath his hands.

The way the fabric falls, the way it’s shaped. The way it curls around a set of smaller shoulders than the ones he’s usually making garments like these for. The elegant overlay where the clasp is supposed to be set.

He tests them, of course, on Cora and Liam – they’re the closest ones he has to models. The real measurements were easy enough to get through Lexi’s database.

The first thing Liam does when he walks into the tech lab is give Jaal a _Look_. He’s known the human long enough that this means that something’s coming up – nothing inherently negative, per se, but there’s probably a smart comment bubbling beneath Liam’s mouth.

“Jaal,” the man says strongly, hands on his hips, “really, buddy? They get one and I _don’t_?”

Jaal smirks. “You only ever asked to wear mine. Not for me to make you one.”

Liam shakes his head at him. “Was that not enough of a hint for you? Should I spell it out instead? Hey bro, I would love me one of those friendship capes!”

Cora smiles, small but amused. “We’re just the models today, Liam. Come on.”

He huffs back at her. “In the middle of the night, rather. You pulled me out of a great dream for this one.” He turns back to Jaal. “Would one of those fluttering beauties suffice as compensation?”

Jaal exchanges a look with Cora, and then solemnly shakes his head. “I am sorry to say, but blue is not your color, Liam.”

Liam looks so horrendously offended that it makes Cora laugh.

“Everything looks great on me,” he says, eyes large and blinking, arms spread wide. “Come on, man.”

Jaal fits the garments on them, marking the fabric for some last-minute adjustments; human proportions are so different from the angara that even with true measurements, it’s hard to fully figure out how the finished product will look.

But he supposes this is also good practice for more – he’s always had the idea of sewing Liam a simpler, more scarf-like rofjinn like Evfra’s; it’d be better suited to the human’s explosive, wild nature. He still has the pattern lying around somewhere, though Evfra probably wouldn’t want anyone to know that it was _Jaal_ who sewed his rofjinn.

When Liam and Cora leave after the fittings, Jaal continues.

It’s a few hours past dawn when he’s finally finished – and the final products are better than he would’ve imagined.

The walk and tram ride back to the Hyperion’s cryo deck are peaceful; few people are up this early in the morning, so it’s mostly Nexus personnel that greet Jaal’s tired eyes while he makes his way to Sara and Scott, two folded packages held carefully in his hands.

They’re still asleep when he reaches medbay.

Curled into one another on Scott’s bed, a pile of limbs and blankets scattered about. Sara is on her back, one leg hanging off the bed, and Scott has his head pillowed on her shoulder, his side turned into hers. She has an arm wrapped around him – both their faces are soft, relaxed with slumber.

It makes Jaal smile, broad and happy, through his exhaustion – he’s glad that these siblings, struck by the stars, have found some peace in each other’s company after all this time.

He draws up a chair next to them, places the packages in his lap, and pillows his head on his own arms on the edge of the bed. It puts him alongside Sara, his arms touching hers. He allows his bioelectricity to jump over across her skin, briefly; it won’t wake her, at this point, with how weak it is – but it’s another layer of togetherness all the same.

She clenches her hand, leg twitching. Scott turns his head slightly, murmuring something drowsily.

Jaal’s eyes fall closed as Sara grasps one of his fingers with her own in her sleep.

He’s not sure how long he stays under, the fatigue of last night and all the heightened emotions dragging him further down into the land of rest – Jaal dreams of purple skies and blue trees, of the moist and warm atmosphere of Havarl. Of electricity pulsing under his skin, connecting him in a network of sparking light to his family; to Sara, to Scott, to Sahuna, all of them.

When he feels the first twinges of awakening, he notices he’s still in the same awkward posture; his lower back hurts considerably, and his muscles in general feel quite uncomfortable. He’s about to shift, to move, to open his eyes – but then he hears hushed voices nearby.

“Just how hard _did_ you fall?” Slightly sharper and with a lighter timbre than Sara’s.

A chuckle in response. “The hardest. I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s so – so open and free with his love, with his personality. Unapologetic.”

Jaal can hear the soft smile in her voice; one that he’s seen on her face dozens of times, now.

“He seems a bit tongue-tied around me.”

That makes her laugh. “I think he just wants to make a good impression. Family’s important to the angara. We’re the only two Ryders left, and…”

A rustle of clothing. “It’s alright, Sara. We’ll be alright.”

“Thank you. He’s just… he’s just figuring out how to fit you in. He’s had months with me already, introduced me to his family and everything, but you’re new.”

“It’s obvious that he cares.” A warm tinge to his tone; a smile, Jaal suspects.

Sara’s answer is immediate. “He loves me. He’d pull the moons out of the sky for me if he had to.”

Jaal’s heartrate does a little jump, cheeks glowing with proudness. She _knows_ , just as confident with his love as he feels it. And she _should_ know, should never doubt how far he’d go.

“Really?” is asked back, but it sounds friendly and amused.

“He’d do the same for you. You’re part of the family now.” Another chuckle. “I guess you always were. To Jaal. To me.”

Jaal silently agrees. His darling one understands him so well.

A quick shift of movement. “Sara, stop trying to make me cry. I’ve already lost enough tears for a lifetime in these past two days.”

Another smile to her voice. “Alright, Scott. If you say so.”

“I still can’t believe that you came to another galaxy and actually fucked an alien, though. That has to be new levels of adventurous and daring, even for you.”

Sara starts laughing; it starts off as it normally does, but is soon muffled into something quieter. “Oh my god, Scott. But how could I say no? There was a lake, there was a _waterfall_ , he told me I was the most beautiful soul he’d ever encountered – ”

“Alright, so you found _your_ space knight-in-shining-armor. Where’s mine?”

“I’ll order one. Jaal has plenty of siblings anyway.”

More sniggering between the two of them. It makes Jaal feel infinitely grateful that there’s something light and airy that they have to discuss; not just bloodshed and war and difficult feelings.

“Is there no bar around where we can pick up some cuties? You can be my wingwoman.”

Jaal has no idea what that means, but he mentally files it away under human idioms he needs to ask Liam about. The twins are using quite a number of them, so far. Comfortable language shared between them.

“I could sneak you out to the Vortex, here on the Nexus. But once you’re better I’ll _definitely_ take you to Kadara.”

“Is that the space pirate planet?”

“Yes. Just make sure you bring Drack for the barfights and Lexi to cure any diseases you might get.”

More hushed laughter from the both of them.

“Any other cool locations?”

“Well, you’d freeze to death on Voeld, you’d probably find Eos too mundane for your tastes, but Elaaden has this really cool ancient Remnant ship and Havarl has weird wildlife.”

“Show me the pictures again.”

It grows quieter, and Jaal hears the distinctive taps and beeping noises of someone controlling an omni-tool. If anything, it sounds like the pause in conversation he’s been waiting for. Huffing a breath, he slowly stretches – arms first, then his shoulders and back, and then his legs. The packages shift in his lap, still there.

He opens his eyes, turns, and the siblings are sitting on two chairs behind him.

“Hey,” Sara grins, beaming, “you’re awake!”

Scott is sitting next to her – he looks a lot healthier after just one night of sleep already. Gone is the greyness in his face and the red in his eyes. Jaal knows human skin colorings and variations well enough by now to know what looks healthy, and what does not.

The smile Scott’s throwing Jaal’s way is warm, welcoming, and a little bit crooked. It reminds him oddly of Reyes Vidal, and he wonders briefly if Scott is also a ‘bad boy’ like Cora mentioned.

Are there also bad girls? Would Sara qualify as one?

He should ask her or Cora once.

“Darling ones,” he smiles back, getting up with a creak from the joints in his knees and ankles, gathering his gifts together in one arm.

The term of endearment makes Sara smile even wider, and it makes Scott blink in surprise.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, eyes on Scott.

Scott is staring up at him if he doesn’t really know how to behave, but he manages a nod nonetheless. “Infinitely better. Thank you so much for being there for my sister.” His gaze shifts briefly to Sara, then back to Jaal. “If she wouldn’t have been here if I’d woken up… I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

He stands up then, too, extending a hand, palm open towards Jaal. “I really can’t thank you enough.”

The smile that makes its way to Jaal’s face is completely genuine. Somehow, the stiltedness, the awkwardness from yesterday – it’s faded away. And now, having spent so much time in human company, he also knows how to shake hands _their_ way, so that’s exactly what he does.

“And I cannot thank you enough,” he nods, shooting a tiny little spark of energy through their joined hands, “for waking up, Scott. For making Sara’s life complete once more.”

Scott’s cheeks grow a little redder, his palm heating against Jaal’s. “Gods,” he laughs, looking back at Sara, “you weren’t kidding when you said angara are open with their emotions.”

Sara shrugs, a knowing look on her face. “Even more so with family, I’d reckon.”

“Ah,” Jaal says, slipping his hand out of Scott’s, “that reminds me. I have a gift for you.”

Scott raises his eyebrow in exactly the same way Sara does. “A gift! Wow. And I, uh, didn’t really get you anything.”

Jaal shrugs his heavy shoulders. “You do not need to. It is not necessarily a custom in my culture. I merely wanted to show…” he pauses, trying to find the right words. “My appreciation. Yes.”

Sara looks curious, inching closer, her eyes on the bundles of fabric in Jaal’s left arm. She leans her chin on Scott’s shoulder, taking a closer look. “But that’s _two_ things you’ve got there.”

Jaal grins. “Well-spotted, Sara. One for your brother, and one for you.”

She looks absurdly happy at the prospect, moving from behind Scott to stand next to him. “Come on, show us. I love getting gifts!”

Scott is also smiling at him, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Alright. Let’s see it, big guy.”

His heart warms. That’s what Sara, Liam, and Peebee call him too, at times. This whole thing between the three of them is already morphing into something more natural and easy.

Jaal puts one of the folded bundles on the bed, and shakes the other one open, holding it up.

Sara gasps, both hands coming up to cover her mouth; Scott stares at it, and then his eyes flick over Jaal’s own body – hanging over the rofjinn, especially.

“You got us one!” Sara exclaims, fingers gliding over the fabric. “Wow, it’s gorgeous.” She pauses, narrows her eyes at him. “You _made_ it for us, didn’t you?”

Jaal tries to play innocent, but it’s not working; he’s unable to suppress his grin. But he tries a nonchalant shrug anyway. “Perhaps I did.”

“Your mom said you were good at sewing,” Sara says, holding up the one on the bed in front of her, “but I hadn’t imagined _this_ when she told me that.”

Scott slowly takes the one in Jaal’s hands into his own, smoothing his fingers over the fabric and the patch on the shoulder. “It’s the Pathfinder insignia,” he says, thumb brushing over it. “And Initiative blue, if I’m not mistaken.”

The rofjinn that they’re both holding are the same shape as Jaal’s own, but a little shorter in the front and proportioned to fit a human body rather than an angaran one. Instead of his darker, patterned blue, the fabric is dyed in the light blue colors of the Andromeda Initiative; the inside of the collars, visible when clasped, is white.

It seemed fitting to Jaal in all aspects.

“Jaal, they’re _amazing_ ,” Sara says, unclasping hers so she can slide it over her shoulders.

Scott is still staring at his, gaze unbroken.

Jaal feels fear spike in his throat; doesn’t he like it?

“I’m not the Pathfinder,” Scott says then, and it sounds so terribly sad that it knocks the breath out of Jaal’s lungs.

Sara freezes, her rofjinn hanging by crookedly. “Bullshit, Scott. You’re my brother, you have a SAM in your head.” Her eyes flick down over the patch that Jaal sewed on. “You deserve to wear that.”

Scott doesn’t look up but instead keeps staring at the fabric in his hands. Jaal notices the wet sheen slowly covering his eyes, sees the quaking in the other man’s face.

“I’m not,” Scott starts, “it could’ve – it could’ve been me. But I couldn’t have done what you’ve done, Sara.” His voice breaks, hanging on a desperate sob. “I could never have been the Pathfinder. If Alec had died for me, then he’d – he would’ve – ”

Sara pales, interrupting him. “What are you _saying_? I barely scraped by! I had friends, I had people like Jaal – ”

But Scott is already crying, eyes squeezing shut against his tears, rofjinn still in hand.

Jaal exchanges a look with Sara, who’s put a hand on her brother’s shoulder; she’s worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, a gesture that would have made her look even more attractive than usual were it not for the anxious expression on her face. And Jaal feels guilty; he last thing he wanted to do was make Scott feel useless.

So he does what he does when Sara is like this – steps in and wraps both his arms around Scott.

Scott makes a shocked, broken little noise of surprise.

But eventually, his hands come up to rest around Jaal’s back, the fabric of his new rofjinn still clutched tight. Sara leans her forehead against his shoulder, her arm around his back alongside Jaal’s.

They stay like that for quite some time, until Scott sighs against Jaal, voice muffled: “You really do give great hugs, you know. My sister was right.”

Sara smiles against her brother’s shoulder, humming. “I told you so.”

Jaal pulls back, nodding encouragingly at Scott. “You are always welcome to receive them, Scott.”

It’s the first time he’s said the other man’s name.

Scott nods back, small smile playing at his lips, trails of his tears still visible on his cheeks. “Show me how to put this on?” he asks, stepping away from Jaal and holding up his rofjinn.

Jaal and Sara smile, and of course Jaal obliges.

 

That evening, Sahuna Ama Darav receives a communication from her favorite son and daughter.

It’s a picture of three people – Jaal in the middle, big and broad and smiling so widely he’s showing all his teeth. Tucked beneath his arms at either side are two humans wearing the white Nexus uniforms that Sahuna’s familiar with, but the garments adorning their shoulders are brand new.

It makes her laugh in delight.

Her daughter Sara is wearing a happy smile, too, one of her hands resting over Jaal’s chest. And on the other side, a human so similar to her that it must be the lost brother. He looks a little pale, still, and Jaal’s hand seems to be supporting him to some degree, but his free hand is making the ‘thumbs-up’ gesture that Sahuna has seen before.

The lighting is soft, purple, and there’s people in the background who appear to be dancing and enjoying drinks.

Below, a message:

_They wanted me in the middle! – Love, Jaal_

And Sahuna thanks the stars for such a beautiful gift.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always looking for more enthusiastic fandom friends! [Drop me a message on Tumblr](http://octobig.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Oh sister, I will help you out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles taken from the excellent song "Hey Brother" by Avicii.

  


**Chapter 3**

**In which Scott figures out what it means to be the Pathfinder’s twin. And finds out his new family was waiting for him in Andromeda all along.**

Scott Ryder is fed up with a lot of things, but most of all he’s fed up with medical routine right now.

He hates the way his leg muscles don’t work properly just yet, he absolutely loathes the physiotherapy he needs to undergo every single fucking day, and if he has to take one more horrendously disgusting vitamin-cocktail he’ll dump it into a nearby airlock.

It also doesn’t help that Sara’s gone.

Of course, it makes sense – she’s the Pathfinder, after all. From what Scott understands, she has kett to kill, Archons to track, and resources to farm. And things to probe, out in space. Things to _research_ , which he would’ve loved to join in on. A few days with actual Remnant technology, what he wouldn’t give for that.

They tried, of course, to delay Sara’s return to space.

But you can only ignore your responsibilities for so long. Sara had slept by his side for three days in medbay, helping him with his therapy and sneaking him junkfood and snacks through Kesh. That second night, when Jaal had given them the capes, they’d even smuggled him to the Vortex.

Scott had been terribly exhausted after – Jaal practically had to carry him back to bed. But the normalcy and fun of it had been more than worth it.

After that third day, Director Tann had _insisted_ Sara discuss her findings and leads on Meridian with Nexus Leadership. Scott had known the moment she would step into that meeting room, it would be over. They would send his sister off, and he’d be proud and scared at the same time.

Loneliness doesn’t really matter when your twin is saving an entire galaxy.

In the end, however, they all disapprove; it surprises Scott, and Sara’s never been more furious. She stomps through medbay like she owns the place, yelling classified information at him about her mission, and Harry quickly herds his people out. Scott is new to the whole situation, and feels he doesn’t have enough on all the variables in play to give her proper advice.

He knows Alec would’ve gone after it, Nexus-approved or no.

The remaining Pathfinders apparently think so, too.

So just after they’ve both lost their father, just after he learned everything his sister had to go through _all alone_ this entire time, and just after he’s had her back in his arms for the past three days – off she goes, doing reconnaissance on what is most likely a high-risk suicide mission.

It’s ridiculous, how much the Initiative seems to take and never give back.

So at this point, Scott is also angry at everything, just like Sara. It doesn’t help that he’s still having trouble with standing on his own any longer than five minutes in a row, either. But his sister getting herself killed as the savior of a new galaxy has to take the cake.

That, or Harry’s nagging. He isn’t sure what he’s angrier at.

He stares at the wall opposite his bed, wondering about all the ways he could write FUCK THIS across it.

He’s sure Sara would appreciate it, and it would be great to get back at Harry. Maybe he should use glow-in-the-dark dye so it only shows up at night – leave Harry guessing the entire day and then have a nightlight for himself when he’d need to fall asleep.

The nihilism of it would surely help him along.

Thank heavens that Sara had him added to her crew’s message and info boards. All the little snippets of information dripping in, and people having upbeat conversations with each other keep him alive while he stretches and works muscles he didn’t even know existed.

At the start, he was afraid that they wouldn’t like it – that it’d be invasive, a stranger in their midst.

But the Tempest crew didn’t seem to care; they were welcoming and friendly instead. Peebee is constantly spamming him with pictures of Remnant technology ever since Sara told her that he knows a lot about ancient alien archaeology. And Gil is always awake at strange hours and ready to play a few rounds of online poker. Scott highly suspects that the engineer is constantly letting him win, but he’ll take any victories he can.

He’s already losing enough battles daily to also add poker to the list.

And he’s missed _so much_ , all these months. Of course, Sara and he are similar but not the same – her attitude is more casually inclined, and he’s a bit more about the science and the analytics – and yet they’ve never been this far apart. She insists the whole experience hasn’t inherently changed her, that she’s still good old Sara Ryder.

It’s true, in most ways.

But they’ve always been… equal, in about everything. Even if one was better than the other at something, they incorporated it into their repertoire, covered a weakness with another strength, made it so that they could handle everything together as the world’s greatest tag-team.

And now Sara has gone to so many places and learned so many new things that Scott kind of feels like a useless, graceless attachment rather than an equally supportive unit to one singular whole.

It’s _immensely_ frustrating.

And then there’s Jaal, who’s just – well, Scott has no words.

If he wouldn’t be feeling so goddamn shitty all the time, if his sister wouldn’t suddenly be the Pathfinder, if he wouldn’t be the sickly little brother stuck in medbay all day – he probably would’ve found Jaal overwhelming.

To be fair, maybe even annoying.

Nobody can be _that_ cool and friendly and big and sweet at the same time. Not to mention the poetry, the sewing, and the badass guns.

But Jaal’s so endearingly genuine that any possible negative thoughts or feelings about him fly right out the window. He seems to be able to constantly strike the right balance between giving the people around him love and attention and not being a bother or overly coddling them.

Jaal’s _extremely_ good at the little things, like leaving you your favorite food or drink, and sending you sweet little messages praising your skills into the skies. But the way he acknowledges it all so openly – _I am doing this because you are my dearest new friend, Scott_ – like wow, that’s an entirely new level of…

Bravado? Courage? Love? Confidence?

As mentioned, Scott has no words.

He knew, though, from the moment he saw Sara smile at Jaal – he knew that his sister loved him more than she’d ever loved anyone else. Sara Ryder is a warm, friendly person, easy to love and even easier to get along with. She can be awkward, yes, but that just makes her more relatable and likeable to most.

Scott always admired just how smoothly people gravitated towards her.

But that look on her face, the way her eyes lit up when she gazed upon Jaal; the tables have turned, that’s for sure. This is his sister orbiting someone else for once, drawn in by their magnetism and completely lost in it.

If it had been anyone else less loving than Jaal, Scott would’ve gone straight for the intimidating-twin-technique.

But Jaal would never flee or run from a heart as open as Sara’s, or crush it in any desperate attempts to cull the depth of its feelings. No, he adds to her energy and love by giving more of himself.

And he was there when Scott couldn’t be.

He leans his head back on his pillow, letting his breath escape him with deliberate slowness.

He also still doesn’t know how to feel about Alec’s – about their father’s – death.

Sara’s told him what happened, of course. He’s even seen the vids; didn’t want to leave that for another grey day. The more you postpone things, the worse they get. At this point, his waking life on the Nexus has been one nightmare after another, so his dad dying while SAM was monitoring it was something that fit right in with the rest of it.

He feels pain, of course. Loss. Fear, even.

A dully aching void in him somewhere, but inherently different from when Ellen died.

And he feels guilty about that too – that he’s not weeping on the floor, unable to move on with his life. Guilty about the fact that he worries more for his sister and her crew, worries more about his own feelings of inadequacy in this new world where he doesn’t have a place than about the death of his late father.

Well, there _is_ a spot reserved for him now, but only because his sister is the Pathfinder.

Maybe the grief will hit him later on. He knows that that’s a thing that happens, sometimes.

(But secretly, he won’t mind if it never does. And of course, he feels ashamed about that, too.)

And truth be told, he has been hit with a lot of traumatic and heavy-duty emotional stuff lately. Now he knows why Sara never really went into what happened when she stole Meridian’s location from the Archon’s own flagship – she’d perished, _died_ , there. That was probably what she had wanted to keep hidden from him amongst the mess.

Too bad that he’s hooked up to SAM too and completely and utterly bored staring at white-steel walls all day. He’s been watching vids and reading reports of all her missions. Cora, especially, is the most thorough in all her recaps of what they’ve done so far.

He should thank her for that.

And SAM, too, for keeping his sister alive – even though the AI was also the one who killed her first.

Gods, his world is all shades of fucked up.

“Time for your check-up,” Harry Carlyle’s voice suddenly breaks through the silence, shaking Scott out of his thoughts.

He groans, pressing a palm to his face. Sunny as always.

_Here we go again._

After lifting his legs in a myriad of different ways, after opening his mouth for Harry to inspect and after lifting his arms up and down several times, the doctor finally leaves.

Verdict: he still has to stay in medbay. Who would’ve thought.

If he wouldn’t also feel so weak right now, he’d be ready to punch himself through a wall.

With a deep sigh, he lifts up his omni-tool and starts typing a message. He’d rather just do it through voice recognition, but all the personnel in the room are making him uncomfortable – and he’s sure that Harry would say that his fingers could use some more practice.

Ugh.

 

 **To:** Sara Ryder, Pathfinder

 **From:** Scott Ryder

 **Subject:** Even your personal tag in the system says “Pathfinder”. Wow.

Sis,

I am bored out of my skull. I’ve already gone over all the ways I could silently murder Harry in his sleep, I’ve already researched whether I could steal some sort of cool cyborg/robot body so I won’t have to deal with getting this one back up to snuff again, and I’ve contemplated whether to write FUCK THIS over the wall opposite me or not.

None of these things are very beneficial or advantageous to my mental and/or physical health, of this I’m aware. But despite Peebee’s steadily increasing flow of Remnant technology images, I’ve already read up on everything else that you all have been doing on the Tempest.

I’m also having trouble processing that (1) I’ve been useless in a coma all this time while (2) you went out and did many very awesome and difficult things and also (3) DIED even though you didn’t think to inform me of that, and (4) now you’re out there possibly dying AGAIN even though (5) we’ve finally been reunited, and (6) my body might not cooperate but my mind is still working and (6) why am I not out there protecting you and helping you out?

Or at least _pretending_ to while your awesome space boyfriend saves the day.

And no, I’m not being jealous. I genuinely like Jaal. I’ve never met anyone who’s making such an effort.

It’s just that he’s doing everything right now that I wish I could. Like a constant reminder that I’m here, like some sort of flower wilting away, and you’re over there getting yourself KILLED while all I can do is worry about what’s up for physiotherapy tomorrow.

We’ve always been side-by-side, you and I. I don’t know how to do this thing when we’re apart. I don’t know how to be your brother and how to be there for you when I’m still such a mess myself.

You know everything and anyone involved better than I – there’s no advice I could give, and that’s what I usually did, back home.

Don’t die on me, Sara. That’s all I can say.

Also, it’s been very quiet in my head despite SAM having established a full connection. Is that normal? Or is he just giving me some space? You seem more intimately acquainted with him than I. Ask him, will you?

Seriously, though, you absolutely are _not_ allowed to die.

I apologize for the high level of whine.

With love,

~~Your Devoted Brother~~

~~Your Sad Twin~~

Scott.

 

And then Scott is leaning back, getting ready for a nap – that’s a thing now, he _naps_ – making himself as comfortable as he can. The rest of the day passes in a daze, almost; drowsy, shaken-up folks from the halls of the cryo deck stumbling in, leaning heavily on the beds and chugging down cups of coffee.

Desperate to get themselves up and running.

He envies them, of course.

Luckily, there’s plenty of video material from all the new outposts and habitats. Scott spends his waking moments browsing through pictures of Prodromos and of New Tuchanka. Admires the snowy fields and ice lakes of Voeld, stares at the beauty of Aya’s architecture with eyebrows raised.

Makes little notes to himself of what he’d like to visit, and what he’d like to know more about. Some things he could ask SAM directly, he knows, but it’d be more special hearing it from Sara and the rest of the crew.

The answer to his rather desperate e-mail comes late in the evening, when he’s pretending to enjoy his final vitamin juice/energy drink/milkshake or whatever it is that he’s supposed to be drinking for the day.

And another ping just after; a message from Jaal.

 

 

 **To:** Scott Ryder, PATHFINDER

 **From:** Sara Ryder, Pathfinder

 **Subject:** Re: i asked peebee to change it asap you little shit, you’re the better capslock version of me now

(until nexus control discovers and they’ll change it back again but i don’t care)

scotty, you sounded so profoundly sad and i still feel so bad about leaving you behind that i’ve gotten you several things. i KNOW you, so don’t stay up late tonight and burn through it all! ration yourself, please, you’ll have to make do with this until i get back, okay?

in the attachment, you’ll be able to find:

\- poc’s blueprints plus several selfies he/she/they (i have ZERO insight in remnant machine gender) has/have been taking ever since peebee installed a new algorithm and gave the poor thing a camera

\- ALL of drack’s personal collection of weaponry photos. this is a lot. seriously, this could keep you going for months! (and yes, some of them are in there twice or more, and don’t ask me about the quality)

\- suvi’s thesis on soil and rocks. i couldn’t understand half of it myself, but you’re the more science-y person of the two of us, so have fun! (and appreciate it. you don’t know the trouble we had to go through to not have it flagged as spam instantly)

\- vetra’s overly complicated diagram to show you where everyone on the nexus keeps their secret stash of food. i wouldn’t go for tann’s – you’ve never really liked dried seaweed – but addison’s aide has some cookies hidden in his console and the science team has an entire closet full of blast-ohs AND they have a fryer. i’m not kidding, they sometimes attempt to deep-fry shit and it’s GOOD

\- note: do NOT steal from kesh. beg her to share; she should already like you because of me. if you steal from her drack or kesh will kill you

\- which reminds me: tiran kandros is cool and he likes chess. smuggle yourself out of medbay and go play a few games. this guy is the BEST

\- anyway moving on - gil has also given me permission to share his poker notes (all 9 pages WOW), have fun with that

\- cora wanted to give you some nice quotes from her asari prayerbook but she couldn’t pick which ones so i’ve just attached the entire prayerbook (she’s a little nervous about this, though, she doesn’t want you to think that she’s an asari fangirl, as i call it – and she also doesn’t want me to say this to you)

\- liam has made you “a mixtape”, of which i do not get the ancient reference (and he is very angry about this still), but apparently it’s like a playlist to make you feel happy. he says to blast this at full volume when you’re doing your physio stuff

\- and several salarian dramas that kallo recommended. don’t sweat, i watched some of them myself, and they’re actually quite good! as with everything salarian, the pacing is kinda quick, so you’ll definitely appreciate that

\- of course jaal came along and demanded that i send you his love, his well-wishes, blah blah blah, so i just told him to send you an e-mail himself. if you think he’s intimidating, fret not – he’s on liam’s couch right now with his face in his hands, agonizing over his word choice towards you. it’s hilarious, he’s making the most constipated face EVER, and liam and i are just laughing at him at this point

and listen, scott.

i can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now, but you should know – everywhere i go, i take you with me, just as i do with SAM. i know this is of little comfort to you and that you feel useless right now and that it’s all so frustrating, but you helped me become what i am today. everything i did, i couldn’t have done without the promise of you coming back one day.

not me coming back to you, no – you waking up on your own, rising to whatever the fuck we’re fighting against here in andromeda.

i’ve struggled with feeling worthy; i know you do too. it doesn’t matter whether we’re worthy or not - what matters is that we feel that what we did was enough to us personally.

also, we’ll be back in 2-3 days, and then stay for a little while!

with regards to the mission, we’ve scouted out the area, suvi’s sent out her probes, and we’re gathering the last intelligence that we need before we go in. i’m not doing this quick and dirty; life is too precious for that, and if there’s anything you taught me, it’s to know all the cards beforehand. every single little variable that could make a difference.

raeka and i are also gonna brief some “interested parties” aka allies before we go in. i’ve already got you clearance to every single meeting we’ll hold. but remember – hush. we’re going against command here.

but somehow, i think you’ll appreciate doing a few rebellious things. do you still need paint for that medbay wall? jaal has a few recipes handy.

i’m not gonna die on you. not now i’ve got you to come back to. there’s no universe without the two of us together.

i love you. see you soon.

\- sara

ps: no worries, i had this thing encrypted by peebee, gil, and kallo. (and poc)

 

 **To:** Scott Ryder, PATHFINDER

 **From:** Jaal Ama Darav

 **Subject:** A Communication From Your Friend Jaal

Greetings Dear Scott,

Sara has told me that you are feeling ‘blue’, which I am very sorry to hear. We tend to associate blue with strength and family, as it is the color of our blood, rather than with a sorrowful mood. But I do hope you are feeling stronger, even if you are still feeling sad.

Once we get back to the Nexus, I will visit you as often as I can, and take you to all the places you wish to see on the station. Sara always says that few people can resist my pleading eyes, and if not, we can blame miscommunications on intercultural differences. Ha!

I understand that there are many things that take priority over you right now. I do not wish to offend or go where I am unwanted, but from what I understand from Sara, this has often been the case with your parents as well. That is why I hope you realize that you will always share the highest priority for me alongside your sister.

Know that you are always in our hearts. Your presence has made an enormous difference for Sara. I had not thought it possible, but now that you are awake, her strength has grown even further. She is truly formidable! As are you.

You will never be a ~~fifth~~ seventh wheel. Stay strong and clear!

Jaal

 

Scott absolutely does not end up in a sobbing heap on his hospital bed in the early evening with the strange mix of bitterness and fruity flavors still clinging to his taste buds. Not for the nth time in just two weeks of wakefulness, not when he’s supposed to be the big strong smart man with a gun on the Pathfinder team.

At this point, he just wishes he could hold Sara.

Sometimes it feels as if his body remembers all those months in coma; can somehow track time between when he was supposed to wake up and talked to Sara through SAM, and now. As if his body knows, somewhere, that there was an entire gap between _before_ and _after_.

He’s afraid of that gap; more afraid than he is of exaltation, of angry rebellious angara. He’s experienced all of that second-hand through reports, a whirlwind of information threatening to overtake his usually so sharp mind, and it has no bone-deep, inherent meaning to him yet.

But that sleep, that blackness he disappeared into – that does.

Every night when he goes to sleep, fingers anxious over the sheets, he’s afraid that the next time he’ll wake up there’ll be another jump in time. In his worst nightmares, the jump is a gap into a future so abstract that it’ll have lost all its meaning to Scott.

No Sara, no humans, no other living people as he knows them.

And him, all alone, trying to make sense of it – atoning for when he couldn’t be there for Sara. For when she had to make sense of being a Pathfinder in a broken galaxy with dying worlds and dying dads.

But these messages – these little scatterings of ‘I love you’ and ‘I care’ – they make him snap out of it.

Sara never stopped believing in him, so why should he quit on himself?

“Scott,” a clear voice suddenly deadpans through the haze of emotion in his head, “if you are in need of further comfort, Sara has given me clearance to tell you that her anxiety levels have lessened significantly ever since you have woken from your coma.”

He almost falls off the bed.

“Shit, SAM,” he mumbles, voice raspy with tears, scrambling over the blankets. “Don’t scare me like that.”

A brief pause. “I am present at all times, Scott.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I know,” he sighs, exasperated, “but considering the fact that I’m not using you as Sara does, I sometimes forget that you’re… there. Monitoring.”

It sounds ominous, the way he adds that last word, even to Scott’s own ears.

The AI continues, more hesitantly. “I do not wish to add even more to the high load of sensory input and information you have had to process since you regained full consciousness.”

“It’s alright,” Scott says, quietly. “You’re trying to be nice, I suppose. Sara already said that you were… _different_ , from when dad first introduced you to us.”

“Is my attitude towards you satisfactory?” SAM asks, tone inquisitive. “You appeared to appreciate the messages that Sara and Jaal sent to you. I was wondering whether I could add to that.”

Scott grumbles a bit, sliding into a position that’s easier on his tense shoulder muscles. “I suppose a distraction is always nice. We haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other.” He pauses, mentally rifling through what he knows about the AI. “Your node is on the Hyperion, correct?”

“Yes, it is.”

He leans back, arms behind his head, stretching his neck a little. “I could stop by tomorrow. Maybe we can solve some equations together. Talk about my sister.”

“You two are very different.”

Scott absentmindedly rubs at his face, brushing the paths of his tears away. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days; his cheeks feel a little scruffy. “That’s not what most people say when they get to know us.”

“I am aware. Genetically, of course, you are a close match. But cognitively, the way you approach situations is quite different from one another.”

He’d expected the AI to continue, but SAM doesn’t. “Is that strange?”

A light, metallic hum. “I do not know. Your environment was similar, as is your DNA. I had not expected – ”

“Nature and nurture both, huh?” Scott asks, interrupting the AI.

“Affirmative,” the AI confirms.

He shakes his head. “Look, SAM: consider us two parts of the same unit instead. Place Sara’s abilities – cognitively, physically, anything – into the context of mine. View it more holistically.” He pauses, staring up to the ceiling. “What do you see?”

And while SAM processes, while SAM tries to see what Scott already knows, Scott remembers.

He remembers Ellen trying, again and again, to get him to charge forward as far as Sara could with her biotics. No matter how often they’d run tests, no matter how often they trained – she was able to cover more distance than he did, she slammed into her targets with more force than he did, etcetera.

He remembers Alec’s stern face every time the kickback of a heavy shotgun would take off his aim to such a degree that he wasn’t nearly as efficient with it as Sara was. Somehow, it had made Alec angry – that his daughter could do it perfectly, but his son couldn’t.

But, on the flipside, there’d been things Sara couldn’t do as well as Scott did.

Their parents had almost dragged her by her ears to the practice range for another round of sniping; to get all the headshots as perfectly as Scott could. Another console to hack into, another difficult mathematical puzzle to solve; her personal records were never on par with his.

At one point, they’d just said fuck it.

 _Together_ , they could clear any obstacle course faster than anyone else ever could – individually, or with teams.

Heck, they even beat Alec’s personal record after many tries, and he was an N7.

“You are referring to the fact that your skills are complementary.”

Scott nods. “Yes.”

The AI doesn’t sound fully satisfied. “That does not explain the initial differences in preference, talent and cognition.”

He shrugs. “Call it the human condition. We’re different in many ways, and we found a way for it to work as an advantage. Maybe it’s not the best scientific explanation or the most logical one, but…” A smile makes its way to his lips. “If Sara taught me anything, it’s sometimes just enough to appreciate the beauty of it.”

“That does sound like Sara,” the AI agrees.

Scott’s pillows behind him are starting to feel more and more comfortable. “Hey, SAM?”

“Yes?”

“If you’re always monitoring, you’re also there when I’m asleep, right?” he asks, voice growing drowsy.

SAM replies smoothly. “Yes. According to my calculations, the chance that you will be woken in the morning by Dr. Harry Carlyle is about 92.5%.” A pause. “The remaining percentage consists mostly of the chance that you will wake up in the morning of your own accord.”

Scott smiles.

“Thank you.”

And he sleeps without nightmares for once.

 

The Tempest returns in the afternoon of the second day after Scott received Sara’s and Jaal’s e-mails, and the moment that SAM announces that the sleek spaceship is docking, Scott is out and about. Adrenaline fuels his veins like nothing else, heart beating fast like a drum.

He’s still slow and walking still takes trouble, but he needs an exercise anyway, and Harry is busy with another patient. So Scott sneaks out, a cane with him as support, and hobbles up the stairs that lead him to the tram.

“Pathfinder Ryder on his way,” he reports on the main channel of the Tempest, voice serious and deep.

Just as he steps out into the light of the docks, he hears Sara’s voice back.

“Acknowledged,” she basically smirks into their comm, “Pathfinder Ryder out.”

It’s only just the second time Scott has stepped into this area of the Nexus – the first time was when Jaal and Sara smuggled him into the Vortex, and that was late at night. Then it had been all muted colors and party people and dock loaders walking the area – now it’s bright, white, the greenery of hydroponics unexpected but welcome.

And there, on the far end, the Tempest against his blinking eyes.

It immediately clogs his throat with how beautiful it looks – he thinks about how Sara must’ve felt, the first time she saw it like this. He clutches his cane a little tighter, like a lifeline. It brings all of his dreams back in one big accelerating rush; dreams of a night sky larger than the one he knew, a longing for exploration and discovery that’s been burned into his soul for as long as he can remember.

He makes his way forward to the railing, looking down over the vast span of the docks.

When Sara sees him, she makes a mad dash for it, waving at him while spurting forth like a wildfire. She scatters datapads around along the way; Vetra, trailing a bit behind her, calmly picks them up one-by-one.

Scott loves how not-careful his sister is when she jumps forward into his arms, almost knocking him over. He appreciates anyone who doesn’t treat him like he’s made of glass right now.

“Hey,” he says with a laugh into the hair that’s whipping into his face.

She hugs him tight, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “I _missed_ you, and then you start writing me sad e-mails, you asshole.”

He has his arms around her shoulders. “I liked the pictures from Drack a lot.”

She leans back a little, grinning from ear to ear. “I don’t know where he gets them, but I never would’ve thought that an ancient krogan gathering low-res images of various types of guns would be endearing to me.”

He grins back just as broadly. “Make that two of us.”

She raises an eyebrow before looping her arm through his. “Was that a deliberate twin joke?”

“No,” Scott says, making a thoughtful face, “but the best things come in twos, right? Or was it threes?”

That earns him a light jab against his bicep. “You’ve really been spending too much time in the hospital.”

They walk back a bit, past Avina’s console on the docks towards the big door that leads to the tram. Scott half-expects to be gently told to go back to medbay again and submit himself to Harry’s scrutiny, but Sara – whose arm he’s leaning on rather than on his cane – suddenly stops and gives him an intense look-over.

“Since you already appear to have smuggled yourself out of Harry’s clutches,” she starts, “are you good to join me in the science lab?”

He tries not to let his surprise show at the invitation. “The science lab?” he echoes, instead.

She looks a little annoyed, rolling her eyes. “Anything in Operations would be too obvious, so Vetra pulled some strings. A few meetings there, then everybody goes their own way as if nothing ever happened.” She leans closer to him, voice a mere whisper. “I could also really use your advice.”

Scott smiles, a rush of affection warming his heart. “Sis, even if I was bleeding out right now I’d rather join _you_ than go back to my prison.”

She smiles back, a brief squeeze of his lower arm. “Thought so. But if you need a rest, please let me know.”

He nods. Never any secrets between them. “Of course.”

Scott spends the next two hours in absolute wonderment when he’s not busy devising strategies or weighing his opinion in on the mission to Meridian. Sara wasn’t lying when she said she wanted his advice, and apparently, that didn’t apply to Sara alone.

First off, it’s already sort of overwhelming to see them all in the same room – to observe and feel the interactions between all the separate members of the Tempest crew and Pathfinder team rather than just see them fool around on their own message boards. To notice the things that might not have been so obvious before; Peebee’s quick and sharp intellect, Cora’s drive and focus, Liam’s immense knowledge of strike teams and quick battleplans.

But what surprises Scott _every_ single time is how after every discussion, after every point on the agenda, all eyes are on him.

The first time, he just raises his eyebrows and says nothing, but Pathfinder Raeka – _Raeka_ – cuts in, big dark eyes unblinking and serious.

“What is _your_ assessment of this situation, Ryder?”

Looking at him, not Sara.

And Scott gapes a little at her like a fish desperate for some oxygen before it really hits home; he’s not here because people felt pity for him. He’s not here because he’s the Pathfinder’s brother. He’s not here because Sara thinks he needs some cheering up and needs to feel like he matters.

He’s here because they actually value his input.

So he shuts his gaping mouth, thinks of a few concerns that passed his mind, voices them, and a new discussion is born. Sara’s eyes meet his after, and they look immensely proud.

He had expected it to feel awkward; them, side-by-side again. He’d expected it to feel rusty, as long as he’s been unused and discarded in the medbay, like a toy in a box waiting to be shipped out and sold. Heck, he’d even expected it to be _forced_.

But it’s not.

Okay, maybe it feels a bit like an old habit that he has to pick up again – but it’s an old habit nonetheless, that still fits around him comfortably. One that he knows through and through.

The best part about it is that often it’s not Sara including him, but the others at the table. And this is what he came here for; this is why he travelled to Andromeda alongside his family. To build, to explore, to strategize. He might be still recuperating, body and mind weakened by his coma, but that doesn’t necessarily spell out ‘useless’.

Sara, of course, notices how inordinately pleased he is with the entire situation, but she keeps her small smiles to herself. Scott is unsure whether Jaal can see it in him – but from the subtle way the big alien sometimes looks from Sara to him and back, he can probably tell from _Sara_ rather than Scott.

Some things still slip by Scott’s tired mind, and others he knows too little about to comment upon, so he also takes a few moments to himself to observe them together.

His sister and her new partner, in every sense of the word.

The first time Scott saw Jaal, he just looked strange and out-of-place to him. He’s pretty used to having aliens around him – turians, salarians, asari, krogan – but Jaal had been entirely new. Not to mention that Scott had just woken up from a coma, was feeling deeply emotionally overwhelmed and still a little groggy.

All he’d thought was something along, ‘Wow, that’s one big pink person’ and before he had time to form a more in-depth opinion, the big pink person in question with the smooth head-flaps and fluttering cape had already awkwardly scrambled away from medbay.

Though Sara had called him darling one. _That_ one had stuck. Sara had never been one for pet names. And the _look_ on her face when she’d smiled back at him – well, that one had spoken volumes too. It had brought out a kind of softness, gentleness and glow in Sara that he’d rarely seen before Andromeda.

And Scott likes to think he knows his sister pretty well.

So there, amongst the ruins of his life and the mission to Heleus, amongst his broken muscles and his dazed mind, the realization had popped up like an exclamation mark rising from the fog: _I have no idea why or how but I’m pretty sure my sister is in love with an alien I’ve never seen before._

He’d stared at Sara just after the person had left – _what had she called him?_ – and stammered: “Are you really…?”

Sara’s red cheeks had told him more than enough. And because he couldn’t quite help it and his brain-mouth filter had not yet been reinstalled in all the chaos, he had blurted out: “But he’s _huge_!”

Scott throws another look at Jaal. The alien is standing at his sister’s left; a relaxed posture, one hand on his hip, the other alongside his thigh. He fits right into place and looks like he belongs, but with Sara right next to him, he seems even bigger than he already is.

They never really got into that conversation, and Scott’s not sure if he _wants_ to. But he still has concerns in that area.

His eyes sweep over the width of Jaal’s shoulders and thighs while Cora and Sara discuss the Tempest’s cloaking device.

 _Big_ concerns.

But all things considered, now that he knows Jaal a little – from personal messages, from short conversations, from what others have said about him – the man is actually a dream come true. From the perspective of a brother wanting nothing more than the entire galaxy on a string for his sister, Jaal has it all.

He lifts Sara up like nobody else ever has, except for Scott himself, and he does so without any shame. Not at his own displays of love, affection and admiration, and not at Sara’s. And that largeness of his extends to his entire being, to his expression, to everything that comes out of his mouth. He has so much faith in Sara that it’s almost frightening, and Scott wonders briefly what that does to her.

Whether she sometimes feels like she has to live up to it, if she feels any pressure coming from him.

But from the way Sara is around Jaal; all easy smiles, casual gestures, and friendly eyes, Scott suspects that it isn’t the case.

Sara leans forward across the meeting table, slipping a few datapads Cora’s way, and Jaal’s hand brushes her shoulder. Light, sweeping, just a little touch. Sara keeps talking, pointing out whatever is in the reports she just showed Cora, but reaches back with her other hand to graze her fingers against his.

Gods, they’re really in love for it to be so natural already.

And Scott wishes he wasn’t feeling so damn conflicted all the time, because that right there was definitely a pang of envy in his greedy heart. That’s not how this is supposed to go – he’s genuinely happy for Sara, that she wasn’t alone in facing it all when he was supposed to be there, yet still…

He shakes his head lightly as if to clear it.

He’ll throw that one right on the pile that says ‘not too shaken up about dad’s death’, ‘relieved that it was Sara and not me who had to take over’, ‘should’ve been there for my sister’, and ‘feel guilty about almost everything’.

Why not add ‘envious of my sister’s new relationship’ to it, right?

His eyes meet Jaal’s and he almost looks away again, as if he just got caught having bad thoughts about good things. Somehow, he expects the expressive alien to smile at him, large, almost looming – _Hello Scott, how nice to have you here!_

But Jaal has a small, private smile on his face instead and nods; a curt, professional gesture.

Well, fuck. The dude really is almost annoyingly perfect.

Scott throws that one on the pile too when he remembers Jaal’s warm arms around him in a hug, and the two rofjinn he spent all night sewing for him and Sara. (Not to mention that the cape is smooth as silk, lovingly comfortable, and actually useful against the cold, too. Not his usual style, but Scott has to admit that he likes it very much.)

When the meetings are over, Scott feels _exhausted_ , but it was worth it.

He hadn’t wanted to miss this, especially not since it’s such a high-risk mission. And he managed to add a few useful details to the whole mess, as well.

Sara seems pleased, too, as she and Jaal make their way to where he’s perched on one of the lab chairs.

“Good one,” Sara sighs, nodding. “I think we covered about everything that could be covered.”

Jaal hums in agreement, a hand on her shoulder. “I agree.” He turns to Scott, smiling. “You are quite the brilliant strategist, Scott. I am happy that you were present, as well.”

Scott still manages a grin. “Couldn’t stay away if my sister is involved.”

Sara rolls her eyes, walking past him and ruffling at his hair. “I’m going back to the Tempest for a quick shower, guys. Take a nap, Scott. I’ll see you later!”

That leaves just Scott and Jaal in the science lab since the others have already left, trickling back to their respective responsibilities. He’s not quite sure whether Sara did it on purpose or not, but a look seemed to pass between her and Jaal. It doesn’t matter, in the end; he and Jaal are fine, and he’s certain Sara will return to him later.

Still, Scott’s throat suddenly feels a little tight, but Jaal doesn’t seem to take notice.

“Would you like me to walk you back to medbay?” he asks carefully, the heavy-set brow above his eyes raised.

Scott stands up, leaning on his cane. “Considering that Harry has already pinged me about twenty times threatening to knock me out with a spray the moment I enter medbay – yes, I’d appreciate that.”

Jaal grins at that, and falls into step with him. He offers his arm to Scott as support once they reach the stairs, and though Scott feels a little awkward at it, he accepts nonetheless.

“So,” he starts once they’re downstairs, “Meridian, huh. Any feelings about it that you want to share in a more informal setting?”

Jaal’s face darkens a little. “The Archon must be stopped,” he says, voice grim, “but at what cost? I fear what might become of all of us once we make the journey there. I stay hopeful, but…”

Scott nods. “Yeah, I get what you mean. First time Sara told me about it, it sounded like a suicide mission. Something that Alec might get himself into rather than… well, us.”

Jaal looks up, gaze inquisitive. “I have noticed that you tend to refer to your parents by their first names.”

“I do,” Scott says, shrugging. “Dad – Alec – and I were never very close. And maybe it’s easier for me to distance myself from them if I call them by their names. From their deaths, I mean.”

Jaal stops in his tracks, turning to face Scott. “You have lost what little family you had, save for Sara,” he says, voice stern and serious, “and now she is going on a mission she might not return from.”

Scott releases a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. “Yeah. Way to sum it up, big guy.”

Jaal places a hand on Scott’s shoulder, then, and leans in, pressing his forehead against Scott’s. “I promise you,” he says solemnly, “I promise you, _brother_ , that I will bring our Sara back to you. Any bullet that comes her way, I will deflect. Any dangers, I will tackle.”

Scott drops his cane.

Jaal is so close like this; his scent wafting towards Scott, a mix of fresh flowers and something sharper, zestier like a citrus fruit. Scott can see each individual fleck in Jaal’s bright blue eyes, every mark on his skin. The scars, too – the one over his cheek still healing.

Of when Jaal stood in front of a gun at point-blank, staring death in the face; brave, unyielding, unbroken. A trust so great that he even asked Sara not to interfere. And a death he was willing to risk; for himself, for his people, for his siblings.

Scott steadies himself; takes a deep breath and leans back, his own hand coming up to rest on Jaal’s shoulder. If Sara trusts him, so can he.

“I know,” he says, voice wavering, “but I would really appreciate it if you would both come back to me.”

A smile blooms on Jaal’s face in much the same way as it does on Sara’s, but Scott doesn’t let go. Not just yet.

“A little harmed is okay,” he adds, a weak little smile through his almost-tears, “a few scars are fine. Maybe emotionally shaken. But alive.” He squeezes Jaal’s shoulder. “Both of you.”

Scott has never had a brother rather than a sister. He suspects it’s not that different, but he can’t bring himself to say it. Maybe in the future; maybe when he’s learned that he can love others like he loves Sara. People who won’t betray his trust, won’t eventually grow distant or die on him, like Alec and Ellen.

Maybe one day he will be able to call Jaal brother like he calls Sara sister.

Maybe one day he will love more easily, though gods know Jaal already deserves it.

“We will,” Jaal says, squeezing back. “That is a promise, Scott Ryder.”

And that promise ties itself deeply into Scott’s heart, wrapping all the way around his soul.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I hope you all enjoyed it! It was pretty difficult to write Scott, since he's dealing with SO MANY things at the same time  
> \- So yeah, not a super happy chapter, but hopefully still... hopeful in a sense  
> \- Come bother me at Tumblr about all the things you love! I'm in lots & lots of fandoms -- [find me here](http://octobig.tumblr.com/)


	4. Do you still believe in love, I wonder?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is nsfw, folks.
> 
> Chapter titles taken from the excellent song "Hey Brother" by Avicii.

 

**Chapter 4**

**In which Jaal ponders upon the experience and universal expression of love. (And puts it into practice.)**

 

It’s busy in the hold of the Tempest; everybody is packing their things, making sure they all have the right gear, the right weapons, and they are steeling their minds for the right attitude as well.

Jaal stands a little off to the side, quietly checking the latest modifications on his gun while Sara and Gil are bantering playfully back-and-forth on the walkway above him. Vetra is running around with cargo boxes, and Liam is readying his belt with hand-grenades.

It is the eve of their journey into the heart of Meridian.

There is a tense, tangible sort of atmosphere on the Tempest. Everybody _seems_ busy, but in reality they are just walking about a little aimlessly, making conversation with their fellow crewmates and checking for things that have already been checked dozens of times. It’s a skittering sort of energy that Jaal recognizes instantly – it happened with Resistance missions as well.

Difficult missions that you might not be getting back from.

He’s experienced with that sort of thing, and usually mentored the younger ones on the strike teams with a calming presence and a kind word whenever he could. Distractions, even – asking them about their favorite food, places they loved to go, things they were good at.

Never directly about family.

That could send them down a sad path instantly.

But this crew, the people around him; they are not weathered, grizzly Resistance fighters, nor are they very young and inexperienced. They just never expected to need to go _here_ , to a battle for an alien terraforming control center that they barely understand while attempting to protect a vulnerable hub full of colonists.

He supposes that there is no real protocol for situations such as this in the Pathfinder handbook that Sara and Scott keep referring to, mostly in jest.

Most of them are something else first before they are fighters, including Sara, and so Jaal does not know how to truly comfort them. Not to mention that even though he has gotten to know them, they are aliens still. With different customs, different needs, different comforts.

He sighs, staring down at his hands. The banter above him continues; now Lexi and Peebee have joined in, as well. Peebee’s voice light, casual, almost musical, and Lexi’s a heavier, more drawn-out counterpart.

Jaal leans back against a stack of crates, elbows on the upper most one and legs outstretched.

He made a promise.

Scott needs them to come back, no matter what. Needs _Sara_ to come back, more than anything.

Jaal looks up at the walkway, eyes drawn to the light of his life almost immediately. She’s laughing, her shoulders shaking a little in doing so, her smile broad and her eyes small and narrow. She has one hand on Gil’s arm, and the cheerful noises bubbling up from her throat sound so very clear, resonating in his heart.

He still remembers the first time he saw her, back on Aya.

Stars, how tiny they had seemed at first sight, those humans. Yet how heavy the burdens they could carry.

Sara is a leader in every sense of the word.

No matter how he adores and admires her as her lover, as her companion, Jaal knows this truth through and through. Sees how she gathers people around her, sees how she keeps pushing through obstacles and pain to pursue victory.

He has no doubt that she will lead them to it, but he has to admit that he’s afraid of the cost. He hopes that the amount of allies that she’s gathered around her will come to their aid, if called.

Jaal tries not to let it get to him; tries to be brave just as she is, casually making fun with her crew. Taking on the role he tried to take on when he was still fighting in the Resistance. But he finds it more difficult than he did before because deep in his bones, he feels it.

In his nightmares, he sees it.

Every forlorn moment he is not by her side, when her smile is not in his field of vision, when her skin is not warming his, when he is unable to sense her in any way –

Her heart, its steady pitter-patter; gone.

And he almost cannot imagine the deafening blow to his entire universe if it would stop in reality. If the ground would be streaked with sprays of red rather than blue, if he would have to return home with scraps of armor and steel rather than a living, loving body next to his.

If he would have to face Scott, and tell a brother that his sister is no more.

If Sara would perish to have the seed of Meridian grow.

And Jaal knows like no one else that the universe does not trade one life for another, even if he would make the offer. Even if he would trade his eternal soul for hers; here, his love would not be enough.

He takes a deep breath, shaking the thoughts out of his mind. They have no place in the here and now, and if all else fails, he supposes he’s very lucky that his darling one is such a fantastic fighter. He _has_ to believe that she will make it and will demolish everything in her path, because if she can’t trust him to have faith in her, then what else can he do?

Except fight by her side, of course, but he’s never been more ready for that particular endeavor.

Jaal looks up; the conversation above him has died down, Gil making his way back to the engine room and Peebee and Lexi continuing their banter elsewhere, both of them walking back to medbay. Sara sighs softly, leaning forward over the railing. Taking a moment to herself, it seems.

Their eyes meet while she lets her eyes wander over the hold, and her face immediately jumps back into a smile. Though it’s something simple and small; a smile reserved for Jaal and Jaal alone.

He smiles back, mouth closed and eyes willed gentle. Tries to tell her as hardest as he can with his eyes alone – _I am here for you. Whatever you need right now, I will provide. Do not be afraid to ask._

It must add something frantic to him; a tiny little frown appears between her eyebrows, a gesture he’s now already seen so often in Scott as well, and she blinks a few times as if to get him clearer into her field of vision. Tilts her head to the side.

She’s trying to figure out what his expression means.

It frustrates him almost immediately; had she not been human, he would have shouted it out to her right there in the hold, regardless of the presence of others. But he knows how embarrassed things like that make the Milky Way species feel, and he doubts Sara could use something like that right now. Not when she’s trying so hard to hold herself together for everyone.

(He still scoffs mentally at that, though – _embarrassment_ at the declarations of loving couples, stars preserve him. The crew should rejoice instead that they could get to witness such a timeless wonder as the two of them in love.)

Sara’s gaze lingers, and Jaal unconsciously shifts, pushing himself up and away from the crate. He should go up to the walkway, talk to his love directly –

But then her eyes drop. And that’s an entirely different kind of lingering; down the width of his arms, the span of his waist, over his crotch. A detour down his legs before her gaze snaps up to his once more.

She’s blushing, little splotches of red warming her cheeks.

Jaal raises his brow. _Really?_

She wrings her hands together in an answer, looking slightly guilty.

It makes him grin more widely than he’d initially intended, showing his teeth. When a thing like this first happened – Sara, flustered and fidgeting, sneaking glances at him during a meeting with Director Tann – he hadn’t really understood it. Up until now, their couplings have been very obviously and directly initiated; simply asking the other whether they would like to join bodies and souls together, share their light, no obvious tip-toeing around the question.

And angara, they don’t really do this sort of thing that Sara is doing right now.

Of course, they admire and they compliment – if anything, angara know how to appreciate beauty, both physically and in other forms. But they are certainly more upfront about it. It had taken Jaal a while to understand that whenever this happens in humans, they’re attempting to be stealthy about a rise of their desire for the object of their usually not-so-subtle looks.

In some ways, it’s quite hilarious. How they scuttle about to hide it.

He still remembers just how jittery Sara had gotten about it when he discovered her doing it as well during the events that led up to movie night. He’d approached her like he would have if she had been angaran; asked about it, open and direct, and that had sent her into another round of nervous babbling.

Eventually, of course, the promise of sex and the culmination of the night had been immensely satisfying, but Jaal had realized after that he could do better. Match a human reaction with a more suitable response of his own.

And now that he knows that it’s a game, of sorts – one of anticipation, of teasing your lover into letting their lust surge further without the use of words or touch…

Well, Jaal _loves_ to play.

So rather than moving from his spot near the cargo boxes, making his way up to the walkway to speak to Sara, Jaal makes the decision to rather lean back, _slow_. Shifts back onto his elbows, chin tipped up towards her, his smirk widening.

Taps lightly against the side of a cargo box with one hand, pelvis tilting forward as he leans his weight on one leg, allowing the other to stretch out. The motion makes the space between his thighs more noticeable, but Jaal angles them further open anyway.

And now he tilts _his_ head to the side, brow raised again.

A bit of a challenge.

If this is what his darling wants; to lose herself in him as preparation for battle, he’s more than ready for it.

Sara’s blush deepens, her eyes flicking back and forth over various parts of his body. Jaal moves again, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, throwing in a little roll of his hips while he does so. She bites her lip in response, laughing soundlessly, one hand coming up to cover her mouth.

He lets one hand slip lower, almost absentmindedly letting it rest on his upper thigh. Smooths his thumb down the stretch of his leggings, drawing a little circle there, and Sara’s eyes follow the motion without pause.

He smiles up at her, wondering when she will start the chase. That’s part of it, he has understood.

Confidence and a steadfast nature are attractive to angara, and Jaal has never been uncomfortable with his own body. He genuinely enjoys the way he looks, though the way his body looks wrapped around Sara’s – now _that_ is a sight. But humans, they seem to enjoy seeing other attractive people around them… preening.

Showing off, as Liam had said it. A little bit of performance.

So when he sees Sara hesitate, when he notices her briefly look over to the stairs down to the level of the hold where he’s standing, Jaal decides to push it a little further.

He’s not wearing his rofjinn, nor his usual armor piece; he opted for a wide, light blue casual shirt instead. It’s Initiative-issued, so of course he had to get the one deemed extra-extra-large in order to have it fit properly, but the material is quite soft and comfortable. (And lovely for sleeping in, he has to admit.) It has a wider, more open neckline than is usual in angaran fashion, and it’s rather tight around the arms.

Perfect.

Jaal folds his arms behind his head, leaning even further back; the rolled-up sleeves bunch around his forearms, and the shirt itself is pulling tight over his chest and abdomen. He knows how much Sara enjoys and admires his physical prowess.

And see, she’s down the ladder in an instant, looking agitated and red-faced while she makes her way over to him. Stretches her hand out, almost touching him; hovering, but not quite there. Yet.

 “Are you trying to seduce me?” she half-whispers, barely a question.

Jaal shakes his arms out, sliding the palms of his hands over his thighs again. “It appears to be working, darling one,” he answers smugly, keeping his voice low on purpose.

She rolls her eyes at him, huffing. “Is it _that_ obvious? But gods, can we really…” she trails off, looking around the hold. Takes a small step closer to him, her body heat becoming more noticeable.

That makes him blink. “What, here? You continue to surprise me, love.”

“No-o-o,” she hisses back at him, her hand finally coming up to touch his arm; his wrist. “Of course not. I was wondering whether I could really do this on the night before my biggest mission –”

Jaal sends a little spark of electricity through that point of contact on his skin, smiling knowingly.

Sara shivers. “…ever,” she finishes, lashes curling over her cheeks as she stares at his lips.

“You have already said your speeches,” he says softly, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her temple. “You have already eased your crew’s fears and rallied their courage. But…”

He pauses, lips hovering over the sensitive curve of her ear. Such a delicate piece of cartilage, and perfect for letting his breath fan against. And so he does, letting his fingers glide over her upper arm, giving it a light squeeze.

“Who has sung _your_ praises tonight, temptress?” he whispers against her, lips barely touching her ear.

Sara tenses; this took him a while to figure out as well, but it’s a _good_ kind of tense, an almost overwhelming bodily reaction to his presence. And yes – her eyes go a little darker, more hooded, the pupils widening. She tips her head towards him, foreheads close.

It’s exhilarating to watch, and Jaal shivers in response to the rush it brings out in him.

She takes his hands in hers in response. “Will you?” she asks, sounding breathless and face hopeful.

He kisses them. “Of course. For you, always.”

And humans might not yet be so wrong, Jaal thinks, as Sara holds onto one hand and almost drags him along while they walk through the hold back to her quarters – he feels strong, _proud_ , with a tingle of anticipation low in his spine and a smoldering sensation of heat and electricity moving under his skin. His lover, ardently pulling him towards her bedroom, where wonders both familiar and new might await.

It’s not a cruel or a silly game if you’re both aiming for the same outcome and grab that at the first opportunity, he realizes.

They round the corner, reaching Sara’s room, and she squeezes his hand tightly. Jaal mimics the gesture, taking a moment to admire his loved one from the back – the strands of her hair, soft and gleaming and seemingly floating in the air; the determined but small set of her shoulders; her hips, narrow and compact, leading into a surprisingly wieldy and capable pair of legs.

And stars, her behind. Another thing remarkably similar between humans and angara, but hers somehow more supple, rounder. The way she fills his palms whenever he holds her up… He hums at the thought.

Sara’s kissing him as soon as the doors slide closed behind them.

He barely has time to respond; her fingers are tugging his head down as she fondly slides her thumbs over his cheekbones, her body pushing up against his. Her mouth is already open against his lips, so eager, the easy slide of her tongue over his bottom lip sweet and inviting.

He fists his hands in the back of her shirt, kissing her back soundly, slowly sliding his fingers down.

The curve of her spine, bare as it is without any padding, without any decoration – stars, he _loves_ it, the straightforward, strong yet soft arc of it. It’ll be his undoing one day, surely. Sensing her urgency, he pushes her shirt up at her lower back, his hands meeting the warm skin below. Her hips shimmy against his in response.

She steps back a little, and somehow manages to take off her shirt without only stopping to kiss him for the briefest of moments. And then her hands are on his face again, a desperate noise in her throat as she licks into his mouth, tongue curling.

There is desperation in her every movement, but he understands. Understands the need and fear that burns beneath it. Tries to match her pace as best he can. But despite quick hands and eager mouths and trembling legs, he needs to know.

Needs to know if this is a boundary she’s hurtling towards without checking whether she really wants to.

“Sara,” he says gently, his hands following the curve of her up to the middle of her back, “are you – ”

She leans forward, pressing her nose against his jaw. “Yes. I just want…”

Her fingers creep under the edge of his own shirt, welcome against his skin. She sighs, long and deep and low; calming herself, face dipping against his neck. He cups the back of her head with one hand, carding his fingers through her hair.

“Everything is so heavy and difficult right now,” she murmurs, “and I just want – to forget.” A pause, a hand squeezing his shoulder. “With you.”

He smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I understand. I doubt you further need to specify…” he trails off, letting his smile widen, “… the hows of the forgetting you had in mind, sweetheart.”

She looks up at him, and her small smile has a teasing lilt to it. “So you know what I want, huh, big guy?” she asks, one eyebrow raised in an attractive arc.

That makes him chuckle. “I like to think that I do,” he grins. “But if you have any specific requests, Sara, they are always most welcome.”

And then she looks at him in that complete unabashed and true way of hers, as if she’s drowning in him, and Jaal feels love tremble throughout his entire body. To be on the receiving end of that kind of focus is something he’s still not quite used to, and it’s enough to make him stop, stammer, falter.

But she leans in before he can say anything and ruin the moment. Her smile is gone, replaced with _heat_ , and she brushes her thumb across his mouth. “Nothing specific,” she says, warm breath mingling with his, “other than that I want to _feel_ it. Deeply.”

He still stutters against the pad of her thumb. “Ah, darling one, that – that I can do.”

She takes him by that wide collar then, pulling him with her while she walks back until her thighs hit her desk. Her eyes are aglow, sparkling almost; so unlike the eyes of the angara, there seem to be hidden depths and dark flecks in hers, beckoning and mysterious. One of her hands slips over the sensitive side of his neck and shoulder, and Jaal moans softly.

This is a side of Sara no one else gets to see except him – her ferocity, her fighting spirit channeled into something sensual and erotic. It makes his skin tingle and pulse, reverberating as he sends it back to her, lets it skitter over the skin of her hands and down her arms.

A resonance in pleasure and electricity.

She sighs, shivering in response, and puts one hand behind her, hopping up on the desk. She draws him between her legs immediately, her fingers flitting over his chest.

“Be loud with me,” she says, a half-whispered request, eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips. “Hold nothing back tonight.”

He steadies himself against her, a brief press of his forehead to hers. “I love you, Sara.”

It’s the only certainty in his life that he still has left. His love for her blazing like a star, the rotating axle that his soul turns around.

Her arms wind around his neck, her legs around his hips, and Jaal spreads his hand over her back. The other, he uses to tip her chin up to his to kiss her again with broad, slow strokes of his tongue. The ‘I love you’ that falls over her lips, hidden in-between kisses and mingled breaths and full-body shudders, almost makes him weep.

She scrapes her nails over his head while he squeezes her ass and lifts her against him, and their simultaneous moan reverberates through both their mouths. Makes him stutter in the roll of his hips against her, and makes her squeeze her legs tighter.

He can hear it, feel it – the myriad of emotions still hidden away inside her, even though she’s trying not to let them show. It hums beneath her skin so obviously that it could almost be her own electric current. Every single time her eyes pause on his face, every shaking slide of her fingers over his skin, the almost anxious way she presses herself closer and closer still; it’s like her soul is crying, screaming –

_Don’t let me go. Don’t leave me._

So Jaal doesn’t.

Because he feels it too, feelings within him like songs unsung; an unwanted and hopefully unnecessary rasp of death and fear beneath his beating heart. But they’ll drown it out with love. Until there’s nothing left except that.

He finds a darker spot upon her shoulder and kisses it, nosing at the strap of her bra. A birthmark, she’d called it, even though it has nothing to do with being born – but there’s a lot of them, scattered about the beautiful plains of Sara’s body, and Jaal loves chasing them with his mouth.

She makes an annoyed little noise and then the bra is gone too, discarded in the steadily-forming pile on the floor. Jaal’s mastered the art of opening the contraptions in the back, finally, but this one is of a softer material that has no clasps or hooks anywhere. But he has no time to ponder upon the strange things humans do to hold their bouncy chests together; full body contact with Sara is a first on his list of priorities.

Fucking her until they are both breathless and sated is second.

She sucks at his throat, a hint of teeth, and he interrupts her to discard his own shirt, growing more impatient himself.

“I like this on you,” she laughs as he drops it off to the side, running a finger over where his neck-flaps morph into the protective, powerful ridges of his chest. “The shirt, I mean.”

He grins back, lazily. “Oh? I had not noticed.”

She slips her hands lower, fingers tickling over his skin until her thumbs are resting on the inside of his hipbones, and snorts. “Charmer.”

He strokes a hand lovingly over one of the legs still at his hip, pushing them wider until his own thighs are resting against the edge of the desk. Dives in for a kiss, his hands sliding from the slender column of her throat and the polished, subtle curve of her shoulders down over her chest. Over the collarbones that mark her like a large clasp, over the spot in-between her breasts, over her ribs.

 _So unprotected_ , he thinks, but he refuses to follow that thought to its inevitable conclusion.

He cups her breasts in his palms, giving a gentle squeeze.

“I like these on you,” he half-smirks into her, craning his head to press a kiss to the corner of her jaw.

Sara shifts on the desk, head tipping back to give him better access. She’s already opening her mouth for a clever retort, no doubt, so Jaal brushes his thumbs over her nipples, and what comes out is a pleased sigh instead.

Still, moments later, when he’s kissed down her throat, dipped his tongue into that little incline between her collarbones, and is pushing one of her breasts up slightly towards his mouth to kiss its tip –

“I _have_ noticed,” she manages to tease back, and that makes him laugh.

He presses on, though – flicks the tip of his tongue against the hard little bud beneath his mouth before sliding his lips over it. She arches her chest towards him, hands coming up to frame the back of his head, and he feels her legs tighten a little around his waist.

She tastes so unique; like there’s metal hiding underneath her skin, a sharp, almost overwhelming tang of something _foreign._ But then that softness of her, the way her skin slips and warms under his tongue, the way he can suck and tease her nipple between his teeth like it’s almost malleable –

It’s exquisitely arousing.

Jaal moans into her skin, his thumb and forefinger mimicking the movement of his mouth over her other breast, and Sara grows restless beneath his ministrations.

She rocks her hips against him, _hard_ , pulls his head up so she can look him in the eye.

“I want you inside me,” she says, breathing heavy.

That shoots such a sharp spark of lust down the length of Jaal’s body that he’s unable to control the way that energy zaps back into Sara; from his lips to hers, from his fingers over the sensitive skin of her chest. She shivers underneath it, her skin pebbling wherever he’s touching her.

“Already?” he asks, his hands drifting down to the fastenings of his leggings.

She nods wordlessly.

Jaal steps away from her instantly, holding up a hand to help her off the desk.

But Sara shakes her head, and her cheeks flush. “Here.”

He blinks once, twice; a desk doesn’t seem like such an odd location after the shore of a lake, a couch, a shower, and a wall, he has to admit. But he hadn’t expected humans to be so refreshingly adventurous in the whereabouts of sex, considering their short stature, relatively small muscle mass and their fragile bone-structure.

Or maybe it’s just his Sara. (Still, they should add a bed to the list sometime soon.)

Before Sara can take his silence as a sign of discomfort, he throws her a playful look, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his leggings and raising his brow. She responds in kind, grinning back at him in turn, and hops off the desk to make quick work of her own shoes, socks, and pants.

They keep sneaking glances at each other while they unceremoniously shed their clothes, and yet time still seems to halt to a stop when they’re both completely naked once more. Jaal’s breath hitches as he lets his eyes travel over Sara, the hunger building in his gut intensifying further.

The shadows of space paint the hills and valleys of her body; so few, compared to his own. More gentle curves, even in the musculature, and beneath her skin beats the blue of her veins. He loves that; that her skin colors her red blood blue to his eye, hidden in the thin skin beneath her wrists.

The lines of her silhouette so sleek and dynamic. A body that seems to be built for speed and swift movement rather than strength and might. But stars, he knows her power. Even through protective layers of armor, he’s seen those hands kill as well as hold. Those legs stomp as well as carry.

“Darling,” she says quietly, reaching out and taking his hand.

He steps closer, brushes a hand over the side of her face. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs back.

Jaal sends a little bit of the buzz at his fingertips over her face; watches how she closes her eyes, head tilted back, letting that stream of bioelectricity echo throughout her. Her lips half-open, her lashes brushing her cheeks.

He leans his head against hers, letting the residual energy zap and connect between all those gorgeous little marks on her body – birthmarks, freckles, scars, her bellybutton, the knobs of her spine, the two little dips on her lower back. Draws constellations between them, marks her body with his own light.

She claims he carries the stars in his eyes.

He thinks she holds them within her body, painted over her skin. All he’s doing is making them glow.

Leaning in, he presses an open-mouthed kiss to Sara’s shoulder, and he feels her arms slide around his waist. Though they are both ready for more, this time it feels like there’s a more palpable tension between them. It makes Jaal’s hands shake, a tremor shooting down the muscles of his legs.

He feels his field increase in span in reaction to his emotions, wrapping Sara up in static; her hair stands a little wider, some of the strands flaring towards him. He’s nearly dizzy with desire.

She kisses him, her mouth demanding and bold, one hand running over the sensitive grooves of his head. Just as Jaal is leaning backward a little, ready to lift her up against him, she nips at his mouth, teeth sharp against his lips.

He shudders, his cock twitching at the motion. “ _Sara_.”

It comes out as a plea, desperate.

Her expression is dark and promising as she slides a finger down his chest, over his abdomen, and stops just shy of his cock. And then, she turns around.

Bends over.

Leans her arms and elbows on the desk before her, and then turns back to look him in the eye. She’s wearing a small, teasing grin, and the position shows her shoulders and back off so beautifully that Jaal is at a loss of words. The curve of them, _stars_.

“Is it okay like this?” she asks, smile still there but her tone carefully inquisitive.

Jaal is about to answer when she spreads her legs a little wider, and then he can see the hint of soft pink between them, gleaming with wet.

All that comes out then is, “Shit.”

That makes her laugh, but it obviously increases her confidence. She pushes herself back further towards him, eyebrow raised, the arc of her back deepening. And Jaal knows a tempting invitation if he sees one.

“Dearest,” he sighs, sliding one hand around her hip. He draws closer to her, his pelvis pressing forward as he crowds her up against the desk. And he bends with her, across that lovely back, kissing it wherever he can. Sara gasps under him when he lines his thighs up with hers, cock sliding between her legs.

He nuzzles against her, the slowly damp-growing skin of her shoulder against his mouth, and thrusts once.

“Gods, Jaal,” she moans, pushing herself up on the balls of her feet. It puts her up higher against him and that lets him slide lower in turn; his cock brushes against her folds, now.

He doesn’t hold back any noises just like he promised, a low moan escaping his throat, and he steels himself against that friction, trying to keep his focus. She feels so _soft_ , so inviting, heat radiating over his cock like she’s meant to take him in.

Jaal presses another messy kiss between her shoulder blades, teasing the fingers of his unoccupied hand against her breasts. “Do you want – ”

She grinds back at him with a snap of her hips, and he can feel her heart beat faster under his palms. “Just _fuck_ me already, will you?”

He still manages a chuckle, sliding one of his hands lower, desire clouding his mind at her blunt words. “So demanding today, darling one.”

She flexes her fingers against the desk, almost hissing at him through her teeth. “Come on, don’t make me wait! We’ve been through this before, I won’t break, so just – _ah!_ ”

Jaal can’t help the flash of pride that flares up in him through the haze of arousal and lust as he brushes his fingers over Sara’s clit, his thumb shallowly pressing into her entrance. She’s dripping with slick, its consistency thick and sweet against his fingers.

“As much as I would like,” he rumbles with effort, rocking his wrist against her, “I doubt that you would look kindly upon me tomorrow if you have to go up against the Archon with a limp, sweetheart.”

Sara’s gone boneless over the desk, head tipped forward and hips pushing back against his fingers. “I – _oh, fuck_ – I do appreciate the concern,” she says, voice breaking on her moans as Jaal pushes his thumb deeper. “Very, very thoughtful of you.”

She clenches around him instantly as he draws a little circle inside of her, thighs trembling around his hand.

Jaal loves having her under him like this – enjoying herself, taking what she wants, unafraid of seeming over-eager or greedy for her pleasure. He strokes a little harder, the pad of his forefinger insistently rubbing back and forth over her clit, his thumb curling against her inner walls.

And Sara cries out, head hidden in her arms, her body stuttering back against his ministrations.

“I _am_ considerate,” he teases, slipping his finger away from her so he can switch it with his thumb.

She makes a whiny little noise at that, drowned out by a deep, satisfied moan when he slides his finger all the way home. “Oh fuck yeah, right there,” she half-mumbles into her own forearm when he crooks his finger immediately, seeking that squidgy spot of hers that makes her cry out so deliciously.

Puts some pressure against her entrance with his other digit, stretching her a little, and she impatiently rolls her hips back. The movement ripples throughout her entire back, and the sight makes his cock bob against her thigh.

“Beautiful, Sara,” he sighs, his free hand trailing over her back.

She hums back at him in bliss.

Silently, Jaal wonders if he could make her reach her peak like this; make her come on his hand, with how far along she already is, how far to the edge this has brought her. He sends a little spark of energy up into her from the center of his palm, curling around the pad of his finger where it’s pressed tight into her, and she nearly shrieks with pleasure.

Completely at his mercy. Trusting him to be good with her – and by all the lives he has yet to live, he promises he will.

His translator has some trouble with the stream of profanity that follows when he slips his fingers out of her, dripping, slicks them over his cock, and presses just the tip of it between her folds. The wet warmth of her enveloping barely a few inches of him is already _exquisite_ , and a steep reminder of how she can wring every last drop of pleasure out of him just by taking him in full and coming down around him.

He takes a shuddering breath, trying to steady himself – but she’s already canting her hips backward, frantically trying to take more of him in, so he places his palm over the small of her back to halt her movements.

It works, and she makes a very annoyed noise.

“Easy, darling one,” he says, chest heaving with the effort, pushing his cock a little further, his other hand at the base. “Don’t – ”

But then she pushes herself up on her elbows, craning her neck to look back at him with an accusatory glance. It makes him blush, falter in his movements – her hair is wild, sticking to her skin, a flush high upon her cheekbones. Her lips look swollen and full, open in half an annoyed breath, but her eyes.

Stars, her eyes.

Dark like twin moons, full of lust and pleasure and _anger_ , and Jaal stumbles into them with the same ferocity as when he first realized he’d fallen in love with Sara.

“Don’t _what_?” she asks, eyebrow raised. “What are you waiting for?”

Suddenly, he’s no longer sure. Rendered speechless once more.

Her eyes are still on him, her gaze changing from accusatory into something softer. “It’s not going to hurt,” she says, voice gentle. “You don’t have to worry. The stretch might burn, but…” she pauses, sighs. “Fuck, I want to feel it.”

She wiggles herself back towards him, taking him another few inches, and Jaal nearly doubles over with how good it feels, one of his hands clenching into a fist. The tension under his skin feels ready to explode.

But she waits for his agreement, eyes focused and sharp on his.

Jaal shudders. As if he ever could refuse this goddess what she desires.

He lifts his palm off her back and nods.

And then she’s earnestly pressing back, her palms flat on the desk, legs trembling with the effort as she takes him in – slow, inch by inch, taking her time with him, and all Jaal can really do is breathe in sharply, hands coming up to lightly rest on her hips. The way her cunt wraps around him, both smooth and strong; snug around his cock yet yielding, _skutting_ stars.

“Ah, finally,” she lets out in a bone-deep sigh, head tipped upwards, ass resting against his abdomen.

Jaal releases a little burst of energy, uncontrolled, barreling into the muscles of her back through his thumbs.

Sara merely hums back at it, a deep quiver going through her body, gyrating her hips back over his. Stretching herself over him as wide as she’ll go, he realizes, and he twitches inside her in response. Leaning forward, he presses another kiss to her spine, and then she’s reaching back to grab one of his hands.

She laces their fingers together, pressing their joined hands together on the desk; it leaves Jaal crushed so close to her that they’re touching almost everywhere, her arched back below his chest and his face against her shoulder. His thighs alongside her smaller ones.

“Gods, I love you,” she moans, squeezing around him.

“Sara,” he says back in response, voice hoarse to his own ears, “so much, darling. I love you _so_ much.”

She starts moving with a gentle rocking and he joins in, hips tight over her rear.

But then something unexpected happens; a _ripple_ of sorts throughout both their bodies, a strange charge building up in her core. He senses it immediately, the way it instantly latches onto his bioelectric field – flashes colors before his eyes, makes his fingers twitch over hers.

It’s foreign but it’s _hers_ , and Jaal can’t really believe this, hips already stuttering faster against her, because as far as he’s aware humans don’t have bioelectric fields, and _stars_ it’s interacting with his, it’s pushing him into a very pleasurable feedback loop –

Her pace increases and Jaal opens his eyes, having briefly closed them against the intensity of it, against her increasing pace and the sudden energy, and then he sees it.

A familiar purple glow around her body. One he knows intimately from battle.

“Darling one,” he barely manages to get out, nose pressing into her hair, “are those – is that – are those your bi-otics?”

She moans loud on the next upstroke he pushes into her, a faster snap of his hips than before. “Any good? I – I practiced with it, figured out what would be – _oh gods_ – what might be nice. For you.”

He wraps his free hand around her body, curling around the inside of her hip, and she slips her own hand out of his, pressing it back on the desk. Giving her more leverage against him.

Jaal feels like he’s burning. Her power crackles over her skin, a lilting tease that wraps itself around his own field, buzzing through it with a stark bluntness, and it spurs him on like nothing else. Charges his own electricity like the power of a thousand suns.

He’s always been able to sense her, been able to draw her shape whenever she’s near. Bioelectricity is not _quite_ like a sixth sense, as Liam had initially asked, but it allows Jaal to _feel_ where humans can’t. And this new frequency she is submitting her own energy on?

It’s fueling his.

“Such a wonder you are,” he sighs back, grabbing her harder by her hips, pulling her onto him on his next thrust. He wants to explain just how much it does, but he has no words left to him. “Shit, Sara, this is making me – ”

She half-chuckles below him in delight and disbelief. “Gods, I can feel you. The beat of it is… stronger.” She pauses, looking back. “Should I – should I keep it up?”

That makes him lean forward again, forehead resting between her shoulders. “ _Yes_. I could take you for days like this. Oh, _Sara._ ”

He curses, his heavy tongue twisting the Shelesh words in such a way that he just knows the translator won’t be able to pick up. He’s completely and utterly lost. The only sensation left to him is her, her warmth and strength beneath him, her body around him, her soul making its home in his.

If she could do this to him all day, he would need no sunlight to recuperate. And no more refractory periods, either.

She braces herself and looks back, a challenge in her eyes. “Then do it. Take me.”

And he does. Half-remembers something that she mentioned earlier, after movie night; curls one hand into the hair at the base of her neck, not pulling but _holding_ , the other steady on her hip. Tries to guide her pelvis into tilting back and upward, making sure he hits her right on every stroke into her willing body.

Curls his energy around hers, shoots it into her clit with every push.

Jaal commits it to memory, this moment – the quick, wet slap of his abdomen against her ass; the divine slide of his cock so deep it makes his toes curl; the slick juices she drips over him, easing his thrusts. Her thighs are wet with it, the scent so inviting that Jaal would almost stop and press his mouth between them just to have a taste.

And the way his Sara cries out in pleasure and abandon, back bowed and throat bared; the way her hair gathers so easily between his fingers when he tugs it gently; the way her muscles squeeze tight around him, and how she trembles and shakes every single time he sends his electricity charging through her.

But she also answers with a purple-edged pulse of her own, every single time.

Jaal closes his eyes, not quite believing just how lucky he is as her energy rips through him – this is love, _raw_ , a little harsh around the edges yet so profoundly gorgeous, and he’s never wanted anyone so badly in his entire life.

“Jaal,” Sara half-moans, half-gasps, her thighs hitting the edge of the desk with the vivacity of their thrusts, “I’m – I’m getting close, I think, _ah_ – ”

Holding her hair out of the way, he kisses the exposed side of her neck; laves his tongue down to where neck meets shoulder, never stopping the steady roll of his hips into hers. When she whimpers under him, he goes a little slower; circling his hips first and then making a scooping motion after, and she squeezes so tight that he twitches inside her, a spike of lust tightening in his lower belly.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, letting his teeth slide over her shoulder, “Sara.”

She wiggles, pushing a hand between their bodies. “Just keep going, love,” she says, voice desperate, “don’t stop.”

He feels her fingers then, brushing over the base of him where he disappears into her body, sliding over the large, sensitive curve just above his cock. And then, steady, the edges of her hand touching him almost as an afterthought.

She’s pleasuring herself.

His breath quivers as he tugs a little harder on her hair, and that earns him a moan. “You’re intoxicating, darling,” he says, “and I will not stop until you’re through. I… _promise_.”

He nearly chokes on the last word as he rolls his hips into her with renewed vigor, giving his love what she wants so badly. Hard and fast, no holding back. So he steps back a little and pulls her along with him, not wanting her to bruise her thighs against the desk any further, and stays mindful of the hand between their bodies.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” she cries, that hand moving faster.

Jaal wraps one arm around her hips, taking some of her weight. Flicks his tongue at her earlobe while he pumps into her steadily, stars bursting beneath his eyelids, his pleasure flaring up. Her body so close and inviting, the way he fits into her; fills her up yet leaves enough room to push, to pull, to move.

And then it hits him, that realization – _I am meant to be here. This is my lover, celestial. If stars and suns and all light die out, if dark matter overtakes us, this will still be here. In the depths of my soul, in the caverns of my heart, in my life’s blood._

He almost wants to write the words down as they come to him, poetry and pleasure mixing.

_Exaltation and engineering could not wipe this. All my lives leading back and forward to her. No matter my purpose, no matter why I was created._

_I exist to love._

“I have you,” he moans, teeth worrying at her earlobe, “I have you, Sara. Fall.”

She does.

She goes still beneath him for just a second like she always does, _right_ before she reaches her peak – and then it hits. She arches her back below him, holding herself steady while all her hips do is push back at him arduously, taking her pleasure, squeezing his cock so hard that Jaal has to suppress his own cries.

The purple of her biotics peaks, too, flares to life within her veins, its power surging. It sends out wave after cascading wave while she rides back against him, her hands clenched in fists on the flat surface of the desk. Jaal can’t see her face from this angle, but it is remarkably easy to paint its lines in his mind – her mouth open, eyes closed, pure joy and ecstasy coloring her expression.

Sara cries out his name, again.

And all that energy, it’s just –

He promised to keep going for her, but his rhythm falters a bit when both her orgasm and her power rip through him, hips moving in a shakier, jerky motion. Most angara have an equilibrium, a balanced level that their bioelectrics gravitates around, keeping the charge of themselves and their field relatively even.

It peaks with emotions, of course, with social cues… with sex. But _this_ is like a massive overload in his system, an overstimulation that tells him he should’ve come ages ago. A contradiction between the overcharge of his bioelectricity and the yet unsatisfied pulse of him between Sara’s legs.

Jaal grunts, heavy and deep, throwing his head back. Presses as deep as he can, holds his hips still against hers, but he can’t, it’s just too much at this point –

She looks back over her shoulder, her expression pleased but slightly concerned. “Jaal? Are you…?”

His field crackles with her, her biotics slowly fizzling out. “Use your strength on me,” he says, voice unsteady to his own ears, “ _please_. I need to, I want to, but I – I can’t.”

She shifts, but he holds her against him, eyes pleading. “Wait,” she says, “let me just – ah, there.”

She twists her wrist, her hand still between them, and puts her fingers on the base of his cock. She strokes softly, once, twice, and Jaal sobs, head dipping forward again.

“Look at me,” she says next, and he does.

Fixating those deep, galaxy-dipped eyes on him. The concentration in her face as he feels a gentle shift in her, charge building up in her fingertips. Her thumb sliding over the largest curve beneath him, dipping in.

“I’ve got you too, Jaal,” she half-whispers, and her words join with the briefest hint of a sharp, strong zap through him. The same he always uses to finish her, if she asks for it.

And Jaal comes, a wordless cry, barely even moving his hips as his cock bursts into her. A release of all that abundant energy, taking the edge of too much away and making place for bliss, for some calm, his field resettling back to something more level.

He makes a small, wounded sound, forehead pressed to her spine.

Sara laughs, soft and happy and musical, stroking his arm. “Are you okay?”

He can only nod against her.

They disentangle themselves from the other, fully stepping away from the desk, but Sara stays close; keeps in the vicinity and takes his hand in hers. Strokes down his chest as she wobbles over to the bed on unsteady legs, his own hand on her lower back.

She lets herself fall into the mattress, face-first.

“That was _so_ good,” she murmurs into the sheets before turning her face to look at him.

Jaal climbs in too, shifting onto his back, still out of breath. “I am undone, darling,” he answers simply, disbelief coloring his voice, closing his eyes.

Sara curls into his side, her scent slowly enveloping him – sweat, salt, the unmistaken humanness of her, followed by the strange mix between sweetness and bitterness of her arousal. Her fingers tickle gently at his ribs.

“Were the biotics…” she starts without finishing; the question open between them.

Jaal wraps his arm around her small shoulders, smiling. “You upset the charge and current of my field.”

He feels her look up at him against his chest. “Is that bad?”

He opens his eyes again, grinning down at her. “No, but… it was strange? You almost doubled it.” He pauses, pressing his nose against hers. “I could barely contain it, sweetheart.”

Sara shifts upward a bit, staring blatantly down between his legs. “You look, uh, still…”

That makes him bark a laugh, satisfied and happy. “Orgasm is a release of electricity for us.” He kisses her next before giving her chin a playful nip. “It usually takes a while to recharge it.”

She nods at him. “Sunlight, right?”

He shoots a little zap of energy up her arm, and she squirms back in response. “Amongst other things, yes. But your biotics did the recharging this time.”

He witnesses the understanding fly over her flushed face. “Oh my god. So you could… go again?”

Jaal smirks wide. “I could easily take you again, yes.” Locks eyes with her and winks. “Right now if you wished to, sweetheart.”

She hides her face in his chest, laughing against him. “Jaal, _please_. I probably won’t be able to walk anymore.”

He pulls her in tighter, his hand over her waist. “Please, what?” he teases.

“Are you not,” she asks, “wouldn’t that make you overstimulated or something?” She pauses, looking thoughtful. “Technically, I could also go again, but… it’s just really tender. And sensitive.”

Jaal shifts, the energy under his skin still a little itchy. “It would be much the same for me. More intense, as well.”

“So the biotics were a good idea?” she asks, a hopeful gleam in her eye.

He smiles back at her. “Yes, Sara,” he murmurs, cupping her face with his free hand, turning his body towards hers, “they were. Thank you.”

She kisses his cheek, her own ones coloring a little bit. “I just – it felt weird, sometimes. I know that angara do the whole bioelectrics thing with each other, and I don’t have anything like that.” She pauses, and Jaal realizes she’s being bashful.

“Darling,” he presses gently, “there are no elements missing from our relationship.”

She shrugs against him. “I know. But I wanted to try. For you.” Her smile blooms. “And look what we did.”

Jaal lets his eyes travel over her face; over the way she’s tucked against him, gentle and soft and sated, the glow of the stars once again smoothing over her. Her body, once so alien, now so familiar – the way her arms fold in-between them, the shift of one of her legs over the other, her knees pressed to his. The coloring of her in the low light; ashen, almost, a slight tinge of blue.

He takes her hands in his own. Pushes one of them open in a relaxed position, her fingers slightly outstretched, palm towards his. He holds up his own hand in a similar fashion, inches away from hers, but not touching.

She has an inquisitive look on her face that Jaal aims to answer in full.

He spreads his fingers, and sends a tiny little stream of current towards hers. Her hand twitches, but the energy fizzles away – Jaal tries again, and then he feels something hook against it, a very dim purple from the center of her palm. He smiles at her; she’s catching him on the other end, completing the circuit.

“This is testing the waters,” he says, keeping up the small stream, “seeing if you like me. An invitation of friendship.”

Sara stares at their hands in awe, trying to send it back. The energy that flows into Jaal is different; not as natural as an angara would do it, more stilted and sharper. Artificial, in some ways, and the rhythm is wonky. Like someone singing off-key.

But it’s Sara, and it’s _beautiful_.

“This,” he continues, strengthening up the current, making it more confident, a strong base followed by lighter pulses, “this is love, darling one.”

Her face softens, wonder alighting it. Her fingers tremble as she feels it, and tries to reflect it back at him. It comes in strange bursts, almost colliding with his field – but that says _eagerness_ to Jaal, how badly she wants to show him. How badly she wants to tell him in a way that is completely foreign to her. A language she doesn’t yet speak, and might never understand the intricacies of. But she’s trying.

It warms his heart.

“And this,” he smiles, enlarging the feeling until it nearly bursts out of his skin, “is what I feel for you.”

Their palms both shake when he pushes it towards her, crashes his entire field into her being. The static crackles, and the purple of her biotics flares and bubbles when she throws it up against him.

Her breathing increases, and even in the dark the moisture gleaming in her eyes is so clear. The way her lip trembles, and the way she tries to blink her tears away. Her hand quivers as she pushes back, almost gently, and what comes stumbling out towards Jaal is messy, and quite different from what he sent her way.

It’s a tangle of strange peaks and bursts, odd pauses within, but that in and of itself is emotion – Sara feeling so much that she can hardly put it into the right kind of energy.

He leans his forehead against hers, trying to comfort whatever rages within.

But then something new slams into him with an incredible force.

He blinks his eyes open immediately, his turn to breathe more shallowly – sees Sara near him, tears on her cheeks, a field of purple enveloping them both. Her hand still open towards him, a trembling conduit, but the strongest energy is coming from the core of her body rather than from her palm.

He can sense it, silent and still, somewhere in the center of her belly.

And it _ripples_ now, around and through him, tugging at his field wherever he can. There is barely no voltage to hers, unlike his, but it’s like she’s swallowing him whole. Like she’s wrapping him up in her love. Transmitting on his frequency in full.

It’s raw, unpolished, as sharp as it is soft, as strong as it is gentle.

And he can only stare at her, eyes wide.

It’s still growing.

“Sara?” he asks, no longer feeling like he’s on her bed in the Tempest, but rather floating out in space, gravity gone, the only tether to _anything_ being her. Her bold, brazen energy, overriding the current he sent her way.

Her other hand comes up to touch his cheek, thumb brushing past the scar. Her eyes are almost somber.

“No matter what happens,” she says, voice soft, “know that I love you. With every little scrap of my being.”

“Darling,” he answers, voice breaking, and he pushes his open palm against hers, catching her fingers. “We will be victorious. We – ”

Her hand on his face slides lower, fingers over his lips. “In the light of this,” she says, and the purple is now so bright that Jaal can barely see her face, has to squint his eyes against it, “that doesn’t even matter. What matters is that you know just how much. I can’t – I want – ”

She kisses him, careless and near-violent, and Jaal’s tears flow as well.

_Luminary._

Blinded by love and yet all-seeing.

_I exist to love._

It’s instinct that drives him as he rolls them over, presses Sara beneath him into the mattress; licks into her mouth, bares his teeth against her throat. And her hands are shaking as they cradle his head, as she leans up for more kisses, but rather with unsung power than with fear. She sucks his bottom lip between hers, the swipe of her tongue exhilarating.

Making love with Sara has always been stellar. But this is a frenzy, uncontrolled lust and love spurring them on.

The urgency taking hesitancy and careful build-up out of the way.

It’s harsher, the way he pushes her down with his hips, the way he sucks a mark over her chest. How she hooks her fingers into the delicate curves on the back of his head, nails dragging down the grooves of his shoulders – pleasure sparking through him as she claws her fingers all the way down to the small of his back.

And insistently, they keep pressing there as she tilts her hips up towards him.

Jaal moans loudly, sliding a hand between them to line them up – and stars, she’s still wet and open and welcoming when he teases her with his fingers first, already grinding down on the palm of his hand.

Her purple glow has dimmed, but it’s still visible, shining in her veins.

When he slides into her, strong and slow and _so_ easy, she bites his shoulder hard enough to leave a mark.

He loves it more than he would’ve thought, throwing his head back on a long cry as he slams into her. Sara’s legs go around his waist instantly, ankles crossed over his back, heels pressing in. She rocks against him with abandon, and Jaal fucks her back as hard and strongly as he can. But never not thorough – always completing each stroke, always taking her all the way.

They are something entirely primal, at this moment.

Thighs straining, he sits up against her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Gravity helps, here, letting her slide more easily down upon him – Sara topples herself forward, into his lap, her arms tight around his neck. Her body shakes as she pushes her hips down, using her legs on the mattress as leverage.

Her eyes are _so_ dark, a stark contrast to her glow, as she watches him intensely, but they conceal nothing. Love, amazement, desperation – Jaal needs no bioelectricity to see what flashes within their depths.

“Love,” he gasps, the first word spoken since they started.

Sara rocks her hips down faster, snapping them against his steady rhythm and throwing it off, and she squeezes herself around him _hard_. And it’s tight, _so_ tight suddenly; Jaal closes his eyes, losing himself in the sensation. Feels light-headed and breathless. And then Sara is shifting her legs to the side, away from his waist, and she’s the one pushing – confident when her palms guide him onto his back.

She slips off of him for a moment, both of them making a broken little noise at the loss; but when Jaal has settled on the bed, arms open, Sara mounts him in one go without even needing to line them up. She closes her eyes, head thrown back, and takes him like he’s meant to be there.

Like _they_ are meant to be here.

Jaal smooths his hands over her hips lovingly, looking up at his darling, his everything, his _lover_ –

She rides him, each roll of her hips a delight. Each sound tumbling from her lips a treat. Every little squeeze of her – of her thighs around his hips, of her cunt around his cock – a tingle of heat up his spine. She runs a thumb over the bitemark on his shoulder before slipping her hand down towards his chest, giving herself an anchor to leverage her movements against.

“Jaal,” she sighs, taking her pleasure and giving it back to him.

He moves his hands from her hips to her thighs. “Sara,” he answers.

He can still sense her biotic field; it’s rolling off of her in subtle little waves. The static of it has no inherent meaning, no particular feelings that he can read, but the way it peaks and splutters every time she sinks down on him says something about how it’s tied to her pleasure.

She leans forward, leaning her head against his. Her movements slow, growing a tad more subtle but no less intense. Jaal shudders into her mouth as she kisses him, and stars, he _wants_.

The feeling is becoming so unhinged that it frightens him.

When she rises against him again, leaning back – stretched above him like a royal, lucid force beating beneath her skin, with every shuddery up-and-down over his cock – Jaal knows what he wants to do. What he hasn’t yet had a chance to do, tonight.

He wants her flying on his tongue.

“I want to devour you, Sara,” he says, voice warm and wanting.

He sees the thought of the previous times he did so flit over her face, her movements halting. And he remembers it, too – Aya, the waterfall, and the showers. Remembers her legs around him, her taste coating his lips, trickling down his throat. The clench and release of her around his fingers, his tongue.

“Let me indulge you,” he continues, leaning up on his elbows.

She hesitates, still. “Don’t you want me to – ”

“I want you to come over here and sit on my face,” he interrupts, running his tongue along his lips and teeth. Smirks up at her and makes a beckoning motion with his hand.

Sara’s biotic field collapses instantly, folding in on itself, and her face blanches.

Jaal’s grin grows wider. How did they phrase it again, humans? Hook, lines, something?

“I can do that,” she says, voice slightly unsteady but her chin jutted forward in determination. She rises off of him in one smooth motion, leaning forward, and then she’s crawling up his body.

Prowling, rather. Slow, measured, dangerous like an adhi.

He helps her when she reaches her destination, of course; guides her legs to rest over his shoulders, knees pressing into the pillows. She stretches wide over him, the width of his shoulders and neck pushing her legs apart, the muscles in her thighs bunching.

She still hasn’t moved up fully, though, resting lightly on his chest just below his chin. How unsure she gets at the strangest of moments, Jaal muses.

He slides his hands up her ass, giving each cheek a strong squeeze. “Are you waiting for something, darling?”

Guides his gaze lower, to her spread legs; to the shine and gleam of her wetness between a nest of soft, wiry curls. So different from the hair on her head, yet somehow even more delicious. Intimate. And beyond that, infinitely soft folds of skin, grooving around her sex and protecting it.

But opening, always opening, for him.

No fruit on Aya or Havarl tastes like she does, but Jaal already decided after the first time that she’s his favorite.

She shakes her head, hair falling before her eyes, and then she’s tipping her hips up. Rising only to slowly descend over his mouth and chin, and he can’t keep the smile off of his face as she comes closer. She moves without hurry, still careful, but Jaal will not have that.

When she hovers, almost fully there, he pulls her down onto him, moaning when her cunt falls over his lips.

He feels her thighs tremble and the sound she makes is close to a squeak, so he very gently runs his hands over her legs, calming her. But there is nothing calm about the way he digs into her, _licks_ up into her, nosing curls and flesh out of the way to reach where she is most sensitive.

“Oh gods,” she whimpers, and Jaal presses his thumbs into her skin.

 _Sing my praises, darling one_ , is all he can think as he pushes his tongue inside of her where she burns hottest, nose brushing against that little nub that gives her so much pleasure. And Sara’s hips start moving, quiet and subtle, like she can’t help how she gravitates towards his mouth.

Her scent and taste are overpowering; Jaal tastes the slight salty tinge of her skin, the tang of metal underneath, but here, between her legs… Stars, the sweetness of it cloys the air, and the accompanying bitterness on his tongue only spurs him further on.

He slides his mouth back up a bit, curling one arm around her leg. It’s so easy to press his fingers into her, _all of them_ , circling and pushing at her entrance to tease. He nuzzles at her clit before flicking his tongue over it, sliding under the little hood of skin that partially covers it.

Sara keens above him, hips jerking.

Jaal loves how Sara has a little button on her that makes her come, and he would gladly spend his entire life learning all the myriads of ways he can flick that switch for her. And not just on the outside, but also –

He slips just his forefinger in and crooks it, pulling it back while he does so. Holds it there and swirls it in a small circle.

Sara cries out his name, hands curled into fists over her thighs. “ _Fuck_ , Jaal.”

Jaal grins. On the inside, too. Certain aspects of humans are definitely cleverly built.

She’s growing wetter over his mouth, her curls damp, so he leans in and sucks her clit between his lips. Her sharp hiss and sudden stop of her movements tell him to be gentle; she’s probably still very sensitive. So he carefully toys with her, letting his teeth just barely graze her clit and he coils his tongue around it tenderly.

He knows his tongue is a bit scratchier than the average human’s; a glide over her clit can already be enough, the rougher texture marvelously doing the job for him. No elaborate gestures needed.

She’s started again, lazy but measured little thrusts against his mouth. Her slick sticks to his chin, lips, mouth; still Jaal would wish for more. He lets his current fizzle out a little over his tongue and she gasps, but he doesn’t stop moving.

Stars, he could drown in her. He wouldn’t mind dying like this.

The noises she makes, the way she unconsciously squeezes her legs around his head, how her hips twitch and turn in little circles, the tremble when he sends little sparks up her clit, the twinge to his jaw –

He closes his eyes and moans deep, humming through her folds and rocking his finger into her more insistently. The noise she makes in response is a broken sob, and she picks up her pace, starting to ride his face in earnest.

The next time Jaal sucks her clit between his lips, he viciously twists his tongue against it on the way out. She jolts above him, but the secret little rhythm – the roll of her pelvis, the tiny quivers in her thigh muscles – stays. And Jaal knows she’s well underway to her peak.

He knows all her little tells, by now, steadily lapping against her. Giving her something familiar and easy to work herself up against.

He slides his free hand away from her leg, downwards, and slowly wraps it around the base of his cock. Strokes once, twice, jerking lazily, before settling on a pace that’s quite similar to the way Sara is riding against his mouth.

“Every time I think I can’t take another,” she says, chest heaving and back arched, “you prove me wrong.”

It’s not sarcastic, it’s not accusatory; it’s pure, heavy-breathed wonder.

Jaal hums in agreement, twisting his finger inside of her. Works himself harder, faster. And makes sure that the charge under his skin grows stronger, ready to release.

“But,” she continues, and she bends over a little, expression tight, “I’m still gonna – I’m still gonna go over the brink like – _fuck_.”

Jaal slips his tongue under the hood of her clitoris, lashing the tip of it against her strongly. She’s stuttering, an erratic notion to the movement of her pelvis, little jerky movements against his mouth. He looks up from between her legs – her eyes are squeezed closed, and even her belly is quivering.

He feels a slight rush of wetness and sucks at it, one clench and release around his finger followed closely by a second –

“Oh _Jaal_ ,” she sighs, heavenly, and he picks that moment to complete the circuit.

To search for that final hint of energy, of charged biotics, all the way in her core behind her bellybutton – snaps the hooks of his bioelectricity in it, drawing it to the surface of her skin towards his mouth and his fingers.

Her next cry is fiercer as she stops teetering on the edge and goes past that invisible point, tipping over it into his eager hands and mouth. Another rush of her juices as she rides him, squeezing and twitching on his finger.

“Please,” she begs, “please please _please_ – ”

And surprisingly, she pushes her hips off of his mouth a bit, giving him more room to press his fingers in. And so Jaal does just that, twisting his hand and pressing his finger deeper, adding his thumb to edge at her entrance. And then he’s pumping that slick digit as hard into her as he’s stroking himself, and she’s still leaking wet, a little droplet of it hitting his chin.

That sends him over, hurtling into bliss.

Jaal swears it goes a little dark behind his eyes for just a moment. The sensations; her above him, his own hand tight on his cock, her scent and the wetness still coating his lips, her cries, and the energy flickering and coursing between them. And stars, when he opens his eyes, that little mark on her chest is still there, his shoulder echoing the aching.

He nurses them through it, but Sara keeps going for a long time, until eventually her thrusts slow alongside his. She slumps back, hands on the bed to help support her weight, her rear perched upon his chest.

But she’s smiling, lop-sided and lazy and low, and Jaal would kiss her but he’s too paralyzed with satisfaction to move. So he pats her leg instead with his not-sticky hand, and smiles back.

“You are amazing,” she says, still out of breath.

“So are you,” he offers.

He helps her when she hops off of him, all shaky arms and legs. He also manages to wipe his mouth and chin on the nearby corner of the blanket, pulling it closer; he might not need it, but she does when her sweat-slicked skin dries and the heat of their coupling fades. But stars, he feels drained.

He draws her in, like before, her body small in the circle of his arms.

“Shower in the morning?” she asks, voice even smaller.

Jaal lets his arms tighten around her, his legs tangling with hers. He knows why her voice sounds so different now – _tomorrow_ , when they go out to war. Everything rushing back, everything they tried to forget and everything they tried to say in this moment in-between.

“Yes,” he rumbles in agreement. “We should get some sleep, darling one.”

He prays that they will have enough time after, together. Tries to demand it from the universe with his entire being.

Her fingers curl around his hand. “Jaal? Thank you. And… I love you.”

He tucks her head under his chin. “The pleasure was all mine. I love you too, Sara Ryder.”

This is love, and anyone who tries to take it away from them will perish. Because Jaal made a promise. To Sara, to Scott, and to himself. And the woman in his arms, sated and close but _afraid_ – there are no doubts in his mind that she could’ve been the only one to lead them. The only one to rally them into this fight. And the only one to get them through it safe.

Sara curls closer into him, her breath fanning out over his chest. “Don’t die on me, big guy.”

He kisses the crown of her head. “As long as you will do me the same courtesy.”

He will stand by her side, no matter what. He knows his course, what path he should follow. There is only clarity, and the way forward.

“I’ll try,” she says, “I’ll try. Jaal Ama Darav.”

Her hand falls over his heart, and he has no words left to say. She knows them already anyway, just like the heart she’s now holding so close to her own.

Stay strong and clear.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- so basically sara has jaal wrapped around her little finger, BOY has got it BAD, and i desperately wanted to show some hard fucking that’s also loving beneath? like, can you tell i don’t like fucking without feelings haha  
> \- it was definitely interesting writing sex from his perspective but also… difficult. like, you can’t imagine how often i had to backtrack and take out human expressions/lingo that he wouldn’t be aware of. and this boy is a poet, so that also had to show  
> \- and i wanted to show sara as more of an erotic/sexual person – we’ve been in her head mostly so far and she doesn’t necessarily feel that way about herself, but jaal is just as fascinated and awestruck by her as she is by him. and she doesn’t see it, but she’s REALLY strong and powerful  
> \- also: i'm sorry if it wasn’t just… smutty smut? but i wanted it to be more emotional because of Impending Doom and of two people realizing just how much they actually mean to each other  
> \- i hope it was still sexy enough folks!! now onto the next chapter, where i will bring more tears  
> \- (also, this is mostly unedited and unbeta’ed. i will be back soon to check for mistakes but i'm too tired right now. if you catch something and you hate it to hell and back, pls let me know haha)  
> \- Come yell at me [on Tumblr](http://octobig.tumblr.com/)!!!


	5. If the sky comes falling down, for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles taken from the excellent song "Hey Brother" by Avicii.

  


**Chapter 5**

**In which there are letters still unsent.**

 

**\--- Simulated Adaptive Matrix (SAM), Automated Log ---**

 

_[To be retrieved in case of the death of S. Ryder, human Pathfinder. Committed to the internal memory banks of the artificial intelligence known as Simulated Adaptive Matrix, or SAM. Includes a formal will and several correspondences to family, friends, and colleagues.]_

_[Saved: on the eve of the journey to Meridian.]_

_[Retrieval: automated.]_

 

**\--- Addressed to S. Ryder (Scott), brother ---**

Dear Scott,

Despite us being together ever since we were born – heck, even before – it still feels like the time I had together with you was too short. You played such a small part in our life in Andromeda up until now that I almost feel cheated; I want those months back.

I wanted you by my side with everything I did. Every step I took, every friend I made, every world I explored. We should have done all of those things together, side-by-side.

But I’m guessing you want me back too, huh? If this letter has finally reached you.

Gods, I don’t know what to say. It’s not that I fear my own death, it’s rather that I fear what I’ll leave behind. I was alone for all that time, but I had a _promise_. A promise of you waking up.

It makes me cry just to think about leaving you behind all alone in Andromeda. Fuck, it breaks my heart.

Scott, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t make it. I’m so sorry that you’re here now and I’m _there_ ; gone.

We’ve never left things unsaid between us, even when we didn’t need the words. I’ve always known you through and through, and you me. No matter what happened, I always had that certainty. I always had you to fall back on, and the reassurance that there was someone out there who loved me despite everything – the faults, the ugly, the things you hide when you cry into your sheets at night.

Yet, I want to make something last. I know you already know everything there is to know, and just how deeply I love you. How hard I fought to stay alive, just to come back to you. I know I don’t need to write it down; I know you breathe it, live it, will always carry it in your heart even when I’m not there to say it.

But if there’s any legacy I want to leave behind – it’s not the one of Pathfinder Ryder. It’s the one of a sister, of a friend, of a loved one. And I also know that with you, I can be selfish.

Indulge me one more time, Scott.

From one living being to another – I love you. You’re my brother, and I will never forget you. You’re my twin, and I will always carry a piece of you in me just like you carry one of mine. You’re simultaneously my better and my worst half; my light and my shadow.

I’d even almost say that the one cannot exist without the other, but this letter is proof that it _can_.

And you can, Scott. You’ll survive this, just like all the other things. Let the others help you, lose yourself in their arms and their love. Talk to Jaal, talk to SAM, if they’re both still there. Talk to the crew. And when you need me, just look up to the stars. You know what I would’ve said and what I would’ve done, anyway.

I’ll always live in you.

And if there’s something after, something tangible – I’ll stay there and wait for you. I promise.

If not – I’ll go back to the start and turn into star stuff, just like I always wanted.

Scott, I – I could give you advice. Write what I think you should do, and what will help you with your grief. I could even write page upon page upon page of what I’ll miss of this world, what I’ll miss of _you_. What I want my funeral to be like, what songs I want to be played.

But it won’t help. Despite my tries, despite _our_ tries, this is a journey I had to make alone. One that you’ll have to make on your own, one day.

There’s only one thing you need to know: I’m not afraid. You loved me too much for that. Death is the unknown, and we’ve been ready for that our entire lives. Cutting-edge explorers, no?

I’ll get the scoop again this time.

Don’t doubt yourself. Never give up on love. Always keep believing the impossible.

Are those enough cliché one-liners for a goodbye letter? I’m sorry, I really have no idea what I’m doing. I can barely see the padd through my tears, and this is the first time I’ve ever attempted this sort of thing. I’ve been breaking my head thinking about things you need to hear, but I think I’ve said them all.

Scott, I love you. I love you _so_ fucking much.

Never, ever, feel guilty about mourning me. About not feeling ready for life after I’m dead. These emotions are real, and honest, and they deserve a place in you. And even if they never fade – and they will – you will learn how to cope with them. Trust me.

I’ll never stop waiting for you. Live your life like it was meant to be lived. I’ll be there every step of the way.

 

All my love eternal,

Your Sara

 

**\--- Addressed to Simulated Adaptive Matrix (SAM), friend ---**

 

Dear SAM,

I don’t really know what to say, but I know that I had to include you in these letters. I don’t even know if you’re already aware of the content of this piece because you’re the one taking care of it all, saving it to your memory banks. But I suppose that doesn’t matter, in the end.

People will call me crazy, say that you’re just an AI. No _real_ feelings, right? Just simulated ones.

But we shared a head for months. My experiences were yours. You killed me, you brought me back to life again. We had heartfelt conversations about many things as you tried to understand the depth of the human experience, and as I tried to understand your own inner workings.

Not to mention that my dad created you; if anything, you’re somewhere in the strange boundaries between a sibling and a friend. I know how deeply you feel, despite pretending not to, at times. Just like you know with me.

And I have to go into battle tomorrow knowing that if this letter reaches you, you’re the only one who had to experience my death in real-time. The only one who tried so desperately to bring me back, to let me latch onto anything from the implant in my head to your own synapses back home, on the Hyperion. The only one who kickstarted my heart and brain, again and again, only to be confronted with static and flatlines every single time.

The one who had to live through my death a third time without any hope for the future.

I’m so sorry you had to feel that, SAM.

Grieve. Mourn. Grow. Do what you need to do to cope. Scott will still be there, hopefully, so you’ll likely pass onto him. It’ll be different, but then at least you’ve almost gotten the entire Ryder family experience. And he will accommodate to you accordingly, I’m sure.

No matter what people say, know that I have always considered you my friend, and have loved you for your support. I still do. Knowing that you will be there, at the end, makes me stronger.

I’m sorry, SAM. I would’ve liked to grow old with you. Thank you so much for trying.

 

Love,

Sara

 

**\--- Addressed to J. Ama Darav (Jaal), partner ---**

 

Darling One,

All words I wish to use somehow seem to fall short. I feel like I don’t have enough; even if you would’ve taught me more Shelesh like we planned to, your language also probably wouldn’t cover what I want to say to you. What I want you to _know_ so desperately.

Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m so so so sorry for travelling all the way over to you, 2.5 million lightyears and more than 600 of our Earth-years, only to steal your heart for myself and to break it not shortly after. I’m so sorry I was so selfish and took so much of you without leaving the most tangible part of it – me – behind for you to love and to keep.

Gods, Jaal, you make my life so beautiful. You make it worth living.

But if I’d known I’d die so prematurely at the end of this story, if I’d known that my mission here in Andromeda would’ve required such a sacrifice – then I would have gladly skipped this chapter if it would’ve kept you from harm and grief and pain. I would have gladly given everything you gave me to keep you _safe_ , and without heartbreak.

But knowing you – and yes, I can picture you now, shaking your head through your tears, you big, loving fool – you don’t believe in that sort of thing. And you’re right. It’s not my choice to make, and I know you’d do it all again even if you knew that the end was bleak and cold and unforgiving.

I suppose that makes us star-struck lovers, huh?

Jaal, listen – I’ve never loved anyone like I’ve loved you.

I mean it.

Never, in all my days, have I fallen as hard for someone as I fell for you.

I love you on so many levels that I can barely count them – I love you as my best friend, my lover, my advisor, my squadmate, my _everything_. It resonates throughout my entire being, like you’re making my soul shine from the inside out. You’re my _partner_ , in every sense of the word.

You’re the first one I go to for laughter, for stories, for kisses, for discussions, for fun. To talk about the serious bits as well as the romantic parts and even the uncomfortable. For anything I feel, anything I do, you’re the first person I want to tell it all to.

I want to share everything with you.

We never spoke about it, but do you know about the human tradition of marriage? Maybe the angara have something similar. When you’re in love and feel like marriage would be the next level of commitment, you basically swear to each other to stay together – legally, in the eyes of the government, and of course it’s also a hugely romantic gesture. There’s vows and everything, and parties. You’d love it.

But the vows, you know, they traditionally include stuff like – _to stay together for better or for worse; to have and to hold, for richer or poorer; to be true to you through good and bad times_.

I’ve always felt that with you. And I hope I was true.

And I’m so, so inexplicably sorry that I had to leave. If I have one regret, it’s that I never told you about this. I know that you’ve never doubted that I’m in love with you, but the _depth_ of the feelings that I have for you is immense. It spans everything I know. It fills me, top to bottom, and yet there’s still always room for more adoration, for more smiles at your affection.

No matter the storm, I’m convinced that we can weather it, together.

This, too.

When you’re reading this, I’ll be gone. It’s not your fault that I didn’t make it, no matter what you might think. And in the end, your wounds will heal, and it will be another cool scar to add to your collection. You’ll have everyone’s support – Scott’s, SAM’s, Liam’s, Cora’s, Vetra’s, Peebee’s, the entire crew. Whoever’s left. And of course, there’ll be Sahuna and your siblings.

Everyone will be there for you, Jaal. You’ll never be alone.

If there’s a place for me to go to and wait, I’ll do so. I’ll watch over you whenever I can. And if it’s true what your people believe, then you can bet your beautiful pink ass that I’ll be back for you. Across galaxies and lifetimes, no matter how long, no matter how far. I’ll _always_ come back for you, my darling.

Cry, scream, weep. Do everything you need to do to get the emotions out of your system. And remember, even if you feel like there’s nothing left of you, that the darkness will never end – you are _strong_. I’ve seen you fight, I’ve seen you face down death through the barrel of a gun, I’ve seen your courage and your bravery.

Never stop loving the people and the world around you. Don’t snuff out your light, my love.

I know you can do this. I believe in you, and I’ll never stop doing so.

I wonder; is this the truth of the universe? That if you break it apart from planets and people to molecules and atoms, if you dive deep into the structure of the cosmos, all you’ll be left with is infinite potential? Just like love?

And can you imagine – it’s almost statistically impossible that you and I even met.

But gods, did we ever. And wasn’t it the most beautiful thing I ever felt and saw; this connection between us, this love wrapping up two people from different galaxies in an elegant dance of give and take, of sharing, of _caring._

Jaal, you are the center of my universe.

I love you, body and soul and mind altogether. If you’d take me apart, you could find it, even in the tiniest little speckle of blood and dust and bone. Resonating.

I can step into death unafraid; I’ve been there before. I know how it feels, and I’ll have SAM by my side. But what still fills me with dread is that I’ll have to leave you and Scott behind alone. No matter what happens to me, whether I disappear, whether I go somewhere else, whether I’ll reincarnate – I’ll always have your love to sustain me.

Jaal – my darling one, my sweetheart, love, dearest, taoshay – may you be strong and clear forever.

Know that you were loved, even if only for a little while, and that you meant the entire cosmos to me.

Nobody can take that away from me and you, not even death.

I’m so sorry I couldn’t stay any longer.

I love you, Jaal.

 

Forever yours,

Sara

 

**\--- Simulated Adaptive Matrix (SAM), Automated Log ---**

 

_[Retrieval: pending…]_

_[Retrieval:_ _̩̟̩̫f̰̫_ _͇_ _̰̜̥a̰̙̝_ _͚_ _̙̠_ _͈_ _i_ _͖_ _̖̞l_ _͍_ _̞e̹ḏ̗̬.̥̣̘̻_ _͔_ _̙ͅ]̰̙̜̭̜_ _͕_

 _̥̞̝[̜̞̩̯_ _͎_ _Re̲̙̤̭ț̩̰̪r̥i̙_ _͙_ _̯_ _͈͍͕_ _e_ _͍_ _̠̖_ _͙͍͚͖_ _v̖̖̬_ _͕͉͎͖_ _a̖̠l_ _͙_ _̦:_ _͍͍_ _̦_ _͇͉͙_ _t̩̱_ _͚_ _̙e̟̹̫̫_ _͔͈_ _̬m̯̳̼_ _͈_ _̝p̦̺̜o̘̝̼̪r̤a̮̫_ _͇_ _̥_ _͖_ _r_ _͉_ _̫̠ily ̟̬o̞̠_ _͇_ _n ̱_ _͔_ _̻̼̙̣̳h_ _͉_ _o_ _͕_ _̺̫̝̻̮̼l̳̦̦̖_ _͎_ _̟d.̹]_ _͇_ _̠̘̞̜̣_

 _[̗̘̖̝̙̤E̼_ _͙_ _̱̘̲̞̫s_ _͓_ _̲̞̗̩_ _͓_ _̳t̻̱̼_ _͇_ _̪̼a̦̩b̺l̩̖ish̭̪̬_ _͙_ _̰̝i̺_ _͔_ _n_ _͈_ _g ̺_ _͈_ _̙̱̫n̗̥̯e_ _͈_ _w_ _͖_ _̰ ̱̫ͅc_ _͉_ _̩on_ _͙_ _̹̞̪̪̩n̘̪̙̮_ _͖_ _̰e̫̘c_ _͙_ _̖̙̣̮̹t_ _͓_ _̯io̥̺̞̜n_ _͔_ _:̼_ _͕͚_ _̹̥_ _͓_ _̘̯_ _͖_ _̤S̰c̙o̖_ _͖_ _̜_ _͖_ _̫̘̜t̟̼̦̭̝̠t̟ R̩̮y_ _͓_ _̯̞̤̖̻ḓ̝̺̲̯e_ _͚_ _̝_ _͓_ _̺̼r̬̯̭.̘̭]̫̮̪_

 _̝̘̳̤̠[_ _͚_ _̮̰_ _͚_ _̗̱R_ _͚͚_ _e̬̟̫_ _͖_ _q_ _͎͖_ _u̮e̥_ _͈͙͙_ _̯̦s̩̘_ _͙_ _̘̱̙̤̩t_ _͍_ _ͅ_ _͍_ _̱_ _͈_ _̦i̗̣̪̹_ _͈_ _̦n̯̮̦̫g̝̣̲̤_ _͉_ _̺:̮̹̙̩̲ͅ ̳̰̹̺_ _͈͓_ _S̠c̞o̠̪̲̞̼t_ _͇_ _̪ͅt̖̰̫_ _͇_ _̺_ _͔͉_ _̦ ̰̰̪̩R̹_ _͈_ _̳̻̘̤̰̙y̠_ _͕_ _d_ _͙͇_ _̪̭̞_ _͙_ _e̮̹̯r̲_ _͈_ _̹̦_ _͙_ _._ _͎͉_ _̬̯̝_ _͇͎_ _]̮̪_

 _̙̞̦̯_ _͓_ _̘[_ _͡_ _̨_ _͖͘_ _̦̙_ _͖_ _R̷_ _͢_ _̲_ _͉_ _̖̭E_ _͝_ _̯_ _͔_ _̗_ _͈_ _Q_ _҉_ _̼̱̻_ _͕͎_ _̖U̱̼E̡_ _͡_ _̭̻ͅ_ _͕_ _̘̻̫S̴_ _͞_ _̼̣̝̳̫T̵_ _͖͇͖_ _̥_ _͎_ _–_ _͟_ _̡̱_ _͇_ _̻_ _͕͎_

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOPS sorry for all the feels!! and no worries, there are no sad endings in my world, only happy ones!
> 
> find me [on tumblr](http://octobig.tumblr.com/) and we'll talk mass effect and other fandom stuff!
> 
>  
> 
> **If you had a blast reading through this fic, please consider leaving kudos! Thank youuu ♥**


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